


The Dreaming Dark

by Pterodotyl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Deepsea Exploration, Ensemble Cast, Fluff and Angst, Hypnotism, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Romance, KEITH IS HERE, Lotor (Voltron) Being an Asshole, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, POV Alternating, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Suspense, Team Bonding, Thriller, Underwater, bifishual awakening, mermaid keith, plot happened, the burn is super slow guys but bear with me i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 126,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodotyl/pseuds/Pterodotyl
Summary: Lance has always dreamed of the Big One: the Dive that would send him skyrocketing to fame as the first deep-sea operator in history to make it to the deepest, darkest part of the world's oceans. TheDercetomission was going to be his big break.All they had to do was go down, collect a few samples, then make it back in one piece. Oh, and investigate the mysterious circumstances surrounding theKerberosmission disaster that claimed the lives of the previous crew after their base went dark. No big deal, right? They'd return home as heroes.As it turns out, they couldn't have been more wrong.AKA: tmw you accidentally flirt with a fish and it flirts back





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [derkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Terminology:**  
>  DSV = deep-submergence vehicle.  
> ROVs = remotely operated vehicles.  
> Cetology = the study of whales/dolphins/porpoises.

_Beware the deep, where no sun goes._

_Beware the deep, where nothing grows._

_Take heed the lights that watch with eyes,_

_The maw that gapes in friendly guise._

_Beware the deep, do not get lost._

_And beware the deep that death belies._

 

* * *

 

Sitting at nearly 14,000 meters below sea level and located just south of the equator in open waters, the Kraydah Trench was the deepest known point on the planet's surface. It was also one of the remotest locations; even the island from which it received its namesake, Kraydah, was some 150-odd miles away and boasted a population of no more than a thousand.

The island had once been a thriving tourist destination. Now the only people interested in the modest little island were the scientists and researchers who would dock and use their small island to prepare for the greener pastures that lay ahead of them in the rich, verdant waters of the South Marmora.

It was a shame, Shiro thought, because standing on the beach now, on the eve of their departure, all he could think was that it looked so peaceful. Calm. Bright.

There would be none of that in the Kraydah Trench.

Water that far down was dark, a sprawling abyss where no light from above could penetrate. It would be cold and dark when they left the world above behind. It was hard to believe that this would be one of his last sunsets for the next year, maybe more.

There were footsteps on his left, and when he turned to look, Sam's smiling face was there to greet him.

"You look pensive. I can never tell if that's a good thing with you, Shiro."

"Just thinking about the mission is all." He shrugged around a faint smile. "Hard to believe the last five years have finally led to this."

"Ah, yes... It has been quite some time hasn't it?" Sam said. "To think that only forty years ago we could barely dream of such an endeavor."

"A lot's changed," he agreed.

"All because a single mining drone found something we wanted. Hard to imagine that such a singular, mundane event could change the entire course of history as we know it, hmm?"

Shiro could feel his expression turn fond as a faint laugh escaped from his chest. "Changed deep-sea exploration, maybe. I'm not sure about all of history."

Sam turned to him with a chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps. But I like to be optimistic. I'm certain the _Kerberos_ mission will have effects that reach far beyond its scope. Not every day you get to be the first crew to scour the bottom of the sea! More people have been to Mars than the deep ocean."

"So you and Matt keep reminding me," he smiled. "How is he, by the way? Is he feeling better?"

"Aha, no need to worry! It's just a little bout of seasickness. It'll clear up just in time for us to set sail, I'm sure." His eyes twinkled mischievously and Shiro couldn't help the laugh that escaped him.

"I'll stop in to see how he's doing on my way back. Will you be turning in soon, professor?"

Sam waved him off. "In a bit. Thought I might enjoy a bit of fresh air before we plunge in, much the same as you I'd imagine." Shiro found himself nodding.

"Alright. Have a good evening, professor."

"You too, Shiro."

As Shiro turned to leave, he cast one final glance over his shoulder and swore that for just one brief moment, Sam's expression had gone dark, troubled.

But when he blinked the look was gone, and with a shake of his head Shiro convinced himself it was just the lighting and continued on.

 

* * *

 

Arrival at their destination above the trench took nearly a week and a half. They sailed in a fleet made up of three full-sized cargo ships and an old oil tanker that had been pulled from retirement and repurposed solely for their mission. It was an impressive sight by anyone's standards, but it made Shiro feel claustrophobic more than anything else. Which was ironic, given where he was about to spend the next twelve-to-thirteen months.

Matt and Sam didn't share his reservations though and spoke endlessly of all the things they hoped to uncover. The general thought half a century ago was that nothing could survive the crushing pressure down at the very bottom of the sea. They'd been wrong.

And now, thanks to the funding and support of Altea Industries, they were going to assemble the world's first deep-sea research station 4,200 meters down. It was mind-boggling, honestly. To think that they'd gone from building cryo-replenishers, to highly advanced deep-sea pressure technology capable of making and maintaining a whole facility in only twenty years was still hard to wrap his head around.

At his side Shiro unconsciously flexed his hand felt as the pressure-sensors inside it warned him before his grip could become too tight.

He couldn't help feeling excited.

There was so much that could go wrong. So much that had never been done before. He was going to be the very first deep submergence vehicle operator to travel that far down and live to tell the tale. He was going to see a world that no one else had ever glimpsed in person before, and Sam and Matt would be right there alongside him to document every moment. Probably obsessively, he thought with a certain fondness. A cetologist and a geological engineer certainly made for some interesting (and very confusing, he might add) dinner conversations. The apple hadn't fallen very far from the tree when it came to the two of them. And if the rumors about Matt's sister were true, the same could be said about her.

All he really knew about her was that she'd given them both an earful about not being able to come along too.

"You ready to get this show on the road?" Matt's voice piped up from behind. Shiro glanced at him briefly and turned his gaze back out towards the oil tanker, where large cranes had begun to assemble and piece together the individual units of their station. The bright white spheres stood out in sharp contrast to the dull grey of the tanker's deck.

"As I'll ever be," he nodded.

 

* * *

 

It took three days to prep the _Kerberos_ mission DSV for a preliminary dive to that would allow them to scope out their landing site.

It took three weeks to slowly, painstakingly assemble and deliver down the twelve stabilizers that would drill into the ocean floor and become the research station's foundation and supports.

It took three months to ferry each and every individual piece of the facility to the foundations below and connect them in order to avoid what would have been an engineering nightmare if they'd tried to lift hundreds of thousands of tons of reinforced steel and syntactic foam into the water all at once.

Every section of the station was mounted and installed, welded to the frames and supports in place before being connected to the next piece. Short-term, independent electrical grids manually powered each piece for testing before it was opened to its neighbors; a safety measure to prevent catastrophic pressure collapse in the event that a compartment malfunctioned or turned out to structurally unsound. The defective piece could tear itself apart if it collapsed without damaging the main body of the facility.

To everyone's relief, not a single unit failed, and after twenty long years spent in development, planning, and testing; after a lifetime of study and hard work, after five years of intensive training, the _Kerberos_ mission crew had achieved their goal:

The Komar Deepsea Research Station was a success.

Shiro dreamed of the dark.

 

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 05.16.2313.11.04_

 

"Is this thing on? Testing, testing...lights are on, yup, cool! Okay.

Hello to all my green-eyed colleagues out there, this is Matthew Holt reporting in from Alpha Research Station Komar! It is now day four of our new life down here at the bottom of the ocean and all systems are go. Had a minor issue with a leak in one of the hydraulic oil lines feeding into bay five the other day, but Shiro managed to fix it up pretty quick. So looks like we'll probably be needing that supply drop a day or two ahead of schedule.

"Other than that, all lights are green on our mission itinerary. Prelim sediment samples have successfully been recovered by ROVs from three different locations along the shelf and I'm going to be taking a closer look at those later today if dad ever stops gawking over the Petri dish of mud he's got under the phase-contrast. You know, that fancy new microscope Altea Industries hooked us up with? Apparently there's something weird about the sea sponges that grow down here. I haven't been able to get any of my equipment set up because _his_ is everywhere. I had coffee in a _beaker_ today, guys. A beaker.

"Anyway, things are looking good and we're proceeding mostly on schedule! Check in with you guys at 06:00 tomorrow. Matt Holt, signing off."

 

* * *

 

_'4,209.05 meters and holding. So cool right? Dive a success. Don't forget to turn in your thesis proposal on time Pidge!'_

It was the first of several messages Matt sent her over the following weeks, and every time Pidge went back to it she felt her mouth crack open in a wide grin. They weren't _official_ communications—those took much longer to arrive—but it was their solution to the, quite frankly, incredibly limited channels Altea Industries used to relay their messages. Hydrophone technology still had some ways to go when it came to relaying large amounts of data.

Short, concise messages encoded and sent through their satellite, however, were a piece of cake for the Holt family.

In the time it'd taken for a single video message to make its way up to them on land she'd had two arguments with Matt about dirt ( _'sediment samples!'_ he'd corrected), and gotten four separate reminders to go to bed on time. Typical dad-and-brother stuff.

"Katie, dinner!" her mom's voice carried up from the kitchen. Pidge minimized the screen and shook her head with a smile before making her way downstairs. The table was already set and the television in the next room was on when she arrived. The volume had been turned down, but she could still make out the tail end of what was being said as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

"—earlier today. Reports as to why mining operations have suddenly ceased are still under investigation, but a representative of Galra Co. had this to say on the matter—"

"Ugh, mom why are you watching this?" Pidge groaned, looking around for the remote and leaning over in her seat when she failed to locate it. She had almost reached the wall-mounted controls when her mom walked past her, pushing her hand away.

"It's a big development in your brother's field," she said without missing a beat. "Something about one of their offshore rigs."

Pidge didn't even bother to try and disguise the skeptical, displeased expression on her face. Her mother weathered it with the same calm look of amusement she did any of her 'moods'. "They probably drilled too deep and hit another deposit, or whatever. Who cares about those guys?"

"You father and brother," Colleen said, passing a salad bowl her way. Pidge took it with a huff. "Speaking of, have you heard anything from them today?"

"No..." She sighed. "Not since I won the sea sponge bet. They've been freaking out about those things for weeks now."

"Well, I'm sure to your father they're rather fascinating."

"Still sea sponges," Pidge said, leaning onto her elbow and poking around at her plate. "I wish they'd send me something I could actually _use_..."

"It's been two weeks since the last broadcast. I'm sure they'll have something for you soon," she said with a sympathetic smile. Pidge returned the look with a half-hearted one of her own.

"Yeah, I know... Just sucks. They get to do all the cool stuff and I'm stuck up here. Can't believe I'm missing everything," she sulked.

"So now you _are_ interested in the sea sponges, hmm?" Her mother's eyes twinkled.

"I'm finishing my dinner in my room!" Pidge declared loudly, making a show of standing and lifting her plate up above her head.

"Be careful not to spill anything where Bae Bae can get to it!"

"I will...!" she called back. Just in case though, she checked around her feet to make sure Bae Bae wasn't already sniffing for scraps.

Nothing. She was clear. Probably hanging around mom, she thought with a quirk of her lips.

She made her way into her room and had just sat down when she noticed the small blinking light at the corner of her computer screen. Her face lit up instantly—it was a message. From Matt or dad or both; Pidge grinned and reached quickly for a pen and paper. She pulled on her headphones next, and brought up the tab.

It only took her two minutes to decode the spectrogram they'd sent her, but when she finished and read the message in its entirety, the pencil fell from her grasp and clattered noisily onto the desk. She didn't pick it up. She just stared, silent as something tight wound its way around her chest.

_'something in the water. we have to get out'_

 

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 04.57.2314.04.28_

 

"Hey guys, me again. I know it's been a few days since our last communication went out. Things have been...

"....

"....

"I'm not sure what's going on anymore. There's no way to explain it. I saw it and I still don't know if I'm going crazy or if it's this place, or...just.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come down here. Maybe this mission was a mistake. Maybe if we'd just _known_ then, we wouldn't...

"Sometimes I wonder if any of these communications are even going through. Are you guys still up there? Am I alone down here? Shiro and dad haven't come back yet—I've tried. But the signals... The interference is—I'm blind down here. They said they were fixing it.

"I don't know what to do. I thought everything was supposed to be okay, and now it isn't. It just isn't. We were supposed to be prepared for anything.

"Mom...Pidge. I'm sorry.

"I'm so—"

 

* * *

 

Katie Holt had been seventeen for twenty-five days, fourteen hours and fourteen minutes when the Komar station went dark, and the water was once again quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first fic for the Voltron fandom, which I only recently got hooked on. A HUGE thanks goes out to Lena and Jemi, who beta'd this monstrocity for me--it's a bit of a slow start here, but let me know what you think in the comments, leave a kudo, anything! Tags will be updated as the fic progresses.
> 
> You can also hmu on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) c: extra stuff like the research behind this fic will wind up there (because there's a lot, holy cow is the deep ocean fascinating???? Seriously. Check it out sometime).
> 
> The next update should come within a week or two and that'll kick the story off proper. Thanks for reading!


	2. Hypoxic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after the Kerberos mission disaster Lance's dream finally comes true. And then he opens his big, fat mouth.

_Listen not to the voices below,_

_The promise of warmth and light aglow._

_Stay far from limbs which tear and rend,_

_The spines and teeth that in flesh wend._

_Beware the deep, do not get lost._

_And beware the deep where all things end._

 

* * *

 

It was dark, and it was cold. All around him the weight of the water pressed in on him, forcing slower and more measured breaths from his body. The pressure this far down was immense and dragged on him like a permanent set of weights, but somehow, he'd always found that oddly relaxing. Calming, in a way. Like being drawn into a cool embrace.

Most people would have probably found such a thing unnerving. All he felt was a growing sense of restless impatience as it gathered inside his stomach, pushing up against the calm. Excitement fueled it, the rush that came with a dive following him like an old friend as he sank further out into the sprawling dark abyss before him.

' _Target: 100m and closing,_ ' his HUD supplied, the flashing pop-up cutting into his train of thought and making him blink. Looked like he was closer than he thought.

A grin was already working its way across his face when he reached up to flick on his helmet's LEDs and two parallel beams of light shot out, one on either side. They cut through the first few feet with ease, but after that it was if they hit some sort of wall and all visibility dropped off. The water became murky, and not even fiddling with the brightness settings on his gauntlet let him see more than a couple yards in front of his face. He frowned.

Wasn't it supposed to be clear down here? He was pretty sure that his mission brief mentioned ideal diving conditions. At this rate he wouldn't be able to see the hull of the shipwreck until he was right on top of it. He'd have to adjust his thrusters for a slower descent.

Two presses of a button and he could already feel himself evening out. The marine snow floating in front of his visor was drifting upwards now instead of shooting past, and that gave him time to let out a slow sigh of relief as he turned his gaze down past his legs to the abyss below. Another message popped up on his HUD and told him he was only eighty meters from the target. Then seventy-five. Seventy. Sixty-five.

At fifty meters the pressure around him squeezed hard enough to make his ears ring, and no amount of trying to pop them would make the feeling go away. It was like having tinnitus. A quick check of his suit's integrity told him he was still within acceptable parameters. He had nothing to worry about yet. He just had to ignore it and keep going. It was only another forty meters now anyway; in a couple of minutes he'd be at the wreck and everything would level out on its own.

But when he cleared thirty meters the ringing sound was still there, maybe even a little louder than before. He was about to call it in when his headlamps finally bounced off of something below and he realized that he could faintly make out the shape of something big. And wide, but not enough to be ship he was looking for. It was almost rectangular and hovered just beyond the reach of his headlamps.

The closer he got, the larger it became, but still he couldn't quite get a fix on it. If he squinted he thought he could see long lines from some sort of finish running along its sides and two white knobby growths coming out of it on each end. He wasn't sure. But what he did know was that the high-pitched hum in his ears was starting to become shrill now, louder than before and grating.

He had just opened his mouth to crack his jaw in one last-ditch effort to pop his ears when something hit him from above, shoving him down the water column so fast it his stomach lurched. Sirens blared in his ears and red lights flashed across his display in a dozen different warnings, but all he could hear was that horrible buzzing as he sped towards the seabed, faster and faster as the face of a giant clock radio rushed to meet him from below.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance shot up in bed with a loud shriek and regretted it almost immediately when his flailing limbs struck something undeniably warm and _solid_ , sending pain flaring through his knuckles. He realized very quickly that 'something' was actually his poor roommate when Hunk's pained yelp of surprise cut in a moment later, followed by the very loud, very _persistent_ buzzing of an all-too-familiar clock perched on the shelf above his bunk.

It took a moment for his surroundings to sink in and realized that there was no water, no super-cool sunken ship. Just him, a messy dorm room, and Hunk's doubled-over figure groaning in pain. He squinted blearily, nursing his hand.

A dream, then.

" _Lance_...! What the heck, man. Oww..." Oh, right. Hunk. He grunted, rubbing a hand into his face slowly to coax himself into consciousness.

"What do you mean 'what the heck'?" Lance grumbled, sullen and confused. "What were you doing standing over my bed in the first place?" He spared a glance first to his roommate, then to his poor hand. The last three knuckles throbbed faintly.

"Uhh, waking you up? Like you were supposed half an hour ago? The alarm's been going for like five minutes already." Lance watched as Hunk picked himself up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose tenderly with two fingers, feeling a small pang of remorse in his gut. It didn't look too bad, probably wouldn't even swell that much.

"Yeah, well it would've been going a lot _longer_ if you didn't go and pull my ear buds out..." he groused. Honestly. That was the whole reason he wore them to sleep in the first place. So he _wouldn't_ get woken up by that horrible alarm. Especially not after last night. Even now Lance swore he could taste the tang of lime juice and salt in the back of his mouth, a delightfully bitter reminder of a night spent in celebration for...for...

"Oh shoot—Hunk!" Lance threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed so quickly he nearly caught his feet in them and tripped. Today was the _day_. The day he'd been waiting years for, working his butt off doing dive after dive, stress test after stress test...

Today they were finally going to announce the crew for the _Derceto_ mission. And Lance was going to be on it.

...If he could ever get his feet into the pant legs of his uniform, that is.

Hunk wasn't very sympathetic. "Hey man, I told you not to wear those things. _And_ I tried to wake you up! Like four times already. Don't blame me if they call up the crew and you don't get a place because you weren't there to accept it."

Lance blanched at him. "What! No way, don't even joke about that! I did _not_ spend all of my incredibly well-deserved spring break sucking up to Hedrick and cleaning fish tanks for nothing! You know what that guy does in his spare time? Do you? He grows sea monkeys, Hunk! Sea monkeys!"

"Well then maybe you shouldn't have gone out to party last night," he sniffed.

"You came with me—!"

"Okay yes, but I wasn't the one doing Jell-O shots until three in the morning. You know them telling you ahead of time is a thing they do to avoid stuff like this right? So that when they make the whole announcement in front of the Garrison, and the press, and all of our friends and family watching back home you _don’t_ look like you fought a giant gyroscope and lost?"

The look Lance sent Hunk was nothing short of a glower. Of course he knew it was a big deal. It was THE biggest deal, the most important day of his life. And...yeah, okay, maybe it hadn't been entirely responsible of him to go out on the town and party like it was going out of style the night before the big reveal, but come on. How many people could boast that they personally, after years of hard work, dedication, and sucking up, had scored a place on the _Derceto_?

 _Three_. Three whole people, the second of which was currently staring at him with no shortage of mounting worry.

"Just stop nagging and go grab our seats!" Lance said, making a hasty shooing motion with both hands. "I'll be there in five minutes, tops!" Hunk didn't look entirely convinced, but left him to sort his clothes out as he hopped, trying to pull his pants on and make it to their adjoining bathroom in the same movement.

A quick application of moisturizer, foundation, and a little bit of toner to blend it all together and Lance was looking in much better shape than when he'd woken up. He could barely even see the bags under his eyes anymore and there was a healthier-looking pallor his cheeks; enough to fool anyone who didn't get close enough to notice his bloodshot eyes. Which was good, seeing as he was about to be on a podium in front of hundreds of his peers.

He was halfway down the corridor to the main assembly room when he lifted a hand to check his breath and nearly gagged. If he ever made it through today he was going to swear off celebratory drinking for the next _year_ —and not just because he'd be piloting a super-cool submarine ship at the bottom of the ocean.

Thankfully, he kept a stash of mints for just such an occasion tucked securely in his uniform. Technically they were less for gross hangover morning breath more for impromptu bouts of flirting, but in this particular case Lance wasn't about to worry about the details. He shoved a handful of them into his mouth and was halfway through putting the rest back into his pocket when someone stepped out in front of him and they collided head-on.

Through some great gift of fate, he managed to windmill his arms and catch his footing, but the other guy wasn't so lucky and wound up knocked flat on his back with an indignant shout.

"Hey! Watch it—!"

"Sorrysorrysorry, super sorry about that!" Lance called back without stopping. He could just barely make out the sight of the poor guy, wild hair askew and glasses hanging off his face. Any other time Lance would've stopped to at least help him up, but he was already cutting it close. He'd just have to find him later and apologize.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was panting and nearly out of breath by the time he made it to the main assembly hall, eyes frantically searching the room. Most seats were already packed with cadets and professors who'd arrived before him. It looked like half the Garrison was there.

The room broke out into applause without warning a moment later and a sinking feeling caught in Lance's gut. Was that the reveal? Did he miss it? Was he too late—

" _Psst!_ Hey, Lance! Over here!" Hunk's voice cut through the noise and drew his attention to a row near the podium. He waved him over and Lance could have kissed him.

"Hey, you made it. Good timing—Iverson's been looking over here the whole time man, I think he was about to pop a blood vessel." Hunk gestured back over his shoulder towards the wall where the commander was indeed leveling them with a thoroughly unimpressed leer. Lance felt it was especially impressive considering the guy only had one eye to do it with. He quickly took a seat and flashed Iverson a charming smile the man didn't return.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, turning his attention back to the other man. "Got caught up in the halls a little bit there—how do I look? Do I look okay?" He ran a hand back through his hair and Hunk nodded.

"Yep, definitely don't look like you're about to hurl anymore."

"Yeah well I _feel_ like I am... How are we? Did I make it?"

"Oh, yeah. Turns out they wanted Professor Slav to say a couple of words about the new sub they built for the mission. You know, that crazy guy they sent over from Alt-Tech? The one who invented the pressure suits?"

Lance lifted a brow and turned his eyes to the stage. "You mean the weirdo with the turtlenecks...?"

"Yeah-huh, that's the one," Hunk nodded enthusiastically. His gaze followed Lance's until they were both facing the stage proper, eyes bright. "Boy was that a mistake. I think Dos Santos actually _cringed_."

"I don't blame him... " Lance's arms crossed over his chest as he tried to picture what that particular spectacle had been like. He'd only ever heard of him in passing, but from the sounds of it the guy was totally bonkers. He wasn't sad to have missed it.

As he let his eyes move from one end of the podium to the other, Lance was able to make out a number of familiar faces. The current speaker was an instructor he'd seen plenty of times before but never had personally, Montgomery or something. Behind her stood the admiral of the Aquanautics Garrison, a stocky man with broad shoulders and a hard-lined face. To his right was the head of their Maritime division, followed by a man Lance didn't recognize, twiddling his moustache. Off to the side stood a white-haired man with dark skin and smooth features, and beyond him...

"Whoa," he breathed, suddenly sitting forward in his seat. "Who is _that_?"

Hunk followed his gaze to the end of the stage and made a sound of disbelief. "Dude, are you serious?" he whispered. "That's the head of Altea Industries—you know, the people funding this whole thing?"

"I thought it was Galra Corp..." Lance said, voice taking on a distracted lilt as he focused more of his attention on the light-haired woman standing at the ready. Her posture was perfect and there was definitely an air of importance about her, but more than any of that she was beautiful. The kind of drop-dead gorgeous princesses in fairy tales were supposed to be.

"What? No, those guys are—ugh, never mind. You're not even listening, are you?"

"Mmnope."

"Great. Cool. Well her name's Allura and if you'd listened to anything they were telling us _last night_ you'd know that this whole thing was organized by her. There wouldn't even _be_ a _Derceto_ vessel mission if she hadn't gotten the board's permission."

"Maaan, I'd permit her to board _my_ vessel any d—"

" _Mister McClain_ ," a stern-sounding voice cut in thickly from behind, and when Lance turned back slowly he couldn't his cringe or the panicked squeak that escaped. Iverson was standing there with both arms crossed over his chest, expression unimpressed and imposing. "I see you've been kind enough to grace us with your presence. I hope this ceremony isn't _boring_ you, cadet. Especially since you somehow managed to get lucky enough to be involved in it. Would be a shame, a real crying shame, if something were to change that."

The warning in his tone was left no room for misinterpretation, and Lance gulped as he sat up straight.

"Sir—yes sir, sir! Just getting up to speed sir, wouldn't miss it for the world, heh heh..."

"Oh good," Iverson drawled with false ambivalence. It was gone immediately after. "Then let's get those eyes of yours back up on the stage. Enough chitchat!"

The moment the coast was clear Lance released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sunk back into his chair. Hunk copied him and they shared a brief, freaked-out look of commiseration before nodding. Playtime was over. It was serious mode now.

And just in time, too. When they finally refocused their attention back on the stage the admiral was finishing up.

"—and there is no doubt in my mind that without the continued support from Altea Industries we would not be in the position we are today. With that thought fresh in our minds let us welcome Miss Allura, current acting CEO and the driving force behind the _Derceto_ mission!"

Applause once more filled the room as the woman from before smiled and made her way to center stage. Her expression was bright and confident, two things that had the beginnings of a dopey smile back on Lance's face in record time. At least until Iverson cleared his throat, anyway.

"Thank you, Admiral. And thank you all for your hard work and contributions to the _Derceto_ effort these many long years. Our partnership with the Aquanautics Garrison has been one born of mutual trust and understanding and it is with no small measure of gratitude that I appear before you today.

"Two years ago, we were struck with tragedy when all means of communication were lost with the _Kerberos_ mission crew. It is a loss that we can never make up for and our hearts go out to the families of those people who bravely gave their lives on that ill-fated mission. Thanks to their efforts, advances in medicine and technology that we could have only dreamed of before have now been made possible.

"As we embark now on a new mission, it is my hope..." Allura was still talking when Lance found his attention starting to waver, her words blending together into a pleasant background hum. Were all CEOs supposed to be this good-looking? Because if so then he was definitely in the wrong line of work.

Don't get him wrong, he loved what he did. Being a deep-sea dive operator had been his dream ever since he could remember; it was still hard to believe it was really happening. He was going to set all sorts of world records: deepest manned dive, furthest depth reached on a single dive, longest time spent in a submersible... He'd probably get his own color spread when they printed the book and everything.

"—operator, Lance McClain!"

Hunk's elbow smacked into his side and pulled Lance abruptly from his daydream, a grunt of surprise caught in his throat when the other leaned over to whisper, voice hushed and urgent, "Dude, she's calling you! Get up there."

She...? Lance looked back to the stage and found Allura's eyes on him and straightaway his heart all but leapt out of his chest when he realized this was it. This was his moment.

With a grin a mile-wide Lance pulled himself up out of his seat and made his way up onto the stage where Allura stood, waiting. The sound of clapping filled the room as he reached out his hand to her and gave it a firm shake. Pride swelled in his chest like as she flashed him a smile and pulled away. He felt like a star celebrity and barely even noticed when she continued on to announce Hunk as their lead engineer and head of hydroponics.

It was the single-greatest moment of his entire life, and in the blink of an eye it was all over.

 

* * *

 

 A few more words, a very brief speech about the importance of their mission, and he and Hunk were being led off the stage to join the group of people standing at its back. The group was smaller than the one that had been on stage before, he noted with a blink. The officers and good-looking guy with the hair was gone, but that fact was overshadowed easily by the sight of Allura as she strode over to greet them.

"Mister Garrett, Mister McClain." She smiled, and Lance could swear his heart melted. He was _never_ going to get tired of that accent. "It is an honor to meet you. I've been told many great things about your performance in the field. Trust me when I say that it is no small feat that you have been selected to join the crew of the _Derceto_."

"Aww, shucks. I'm more amazed we actually made it—there were like, four thousand, six hundred and seventy-five people after this position! I can't believe we beat all of them." Hunk stated enthusiastically, and Lance took that as his cue to sling an arm across his shoulders with a suave grin.

"Of course we did! We're the best tag-team in the universe. Your brains, my good looks? Between the two of us it was pretty much a no-contest." Allura looked at him with what could have been confusion, but he knew she was just too impressed for words.

"Mister Garrett is right," the admiral cut in, eyes hard and tone flat. "There were many _other_ candidates who were equally as deserving of a position on this mission. As much as it pains me to admit, you've earned it. Against all odds..."

"Hey...!"

"— _The three of you_ will be representing the Aquanautics Garrison aboard the _Derceto_. I don't believe I need to explain the significance of this undertaking. You will be tasked with succeeding where the _Kerberos_ crew did not."

Lance was halfway to glowering when a thought occurred to him and he blinked, looking around. "Wait yeah, there's supposed to be three of us on this mission. But you only listed me and Hunk. Where's our other crew member? Aren't they supposed to be here?"

"She's waiting for you in the boardroom," Allura spoke up with an easy smile. "If you would be so kind as to make your way over we can begin briefing you for your mission once we finish up here. Coran will see you over."

"' _She_ '?" Oh, hell yes. Lance didn't care if Hunk was already groaning and throwing a hand up over his face. A girl! On their crew! In the deep ocean, the pair of them all alone in a DSV built for two... It was the perfect setting for long, heated glances and simmering tension sparked by their close quarters.

Lance was nearly vibrating with excitement as they began making their way over. How old was she? Was she older? Tall? Blonde? Or maybe dark-haired and built, the kind of girl that could bench press you if she really wanted to. He'd dated a girl like that in high school once, lifted him right over her head like he was nothing. Lance had thought right then and there that he was going to marry her.

Her boyfriend had thought differently. _His_ guns though... Those had been impressive. They'd bent him in all sorts of fun positions before they'd parted ways. Best weekend of his entire life. Lance still missed them sometimes.

"Just promise me you won't make this weird," Hunk pleaded as they rounded a corner. "We have to work _with_ this person for the next...three hundred and eighty-five days. That's a year man, more than a year!"

"Re- _lax_ Hunk, you're talking to the Casanova _master_! There isn't a girl in the world that doesn't fall for these looks."

"Yeah, no see, that's exactly what I'm worried about here. That right there." Hunk said. "This is our co-worker here man, and I do not want to get caught in the middle of whatever weird thing you're going to do try get her to like you. This is a serious mission! With serious implications and serious buttons and logs and stuff."

Lance lifted a brow. "Oh yeah, that sounds _real_ official."

" _Laaance_..."

"Okay okay! Fine!" He held up both arms in surrender and rolled his eyes. "I _promise_ not to turn my totally-irresistible charm on and make her fall head-over-heels in love with me. But if that happens anyway I'm just saying, a flipper on the door is still our code."

Hunk groaned again and hid his face in his hands as they came to a stop outside a single door marked with red. Moustache-guy, or 'Coran' as Allura had called him, was the first one to move over and hold it open for them.

"In ya go gents! Make yourselves at home. Miss Allura'll be along in just a tick to see you through. In the meantime, it's a good chance for you all to get acquainted! It's important to get along seeing as how you'll be virtually stuck down there together with nooo other people around for miles!" His expression was perky and bright as he let them in.

Lance's first impression was that it really didn't look all that different from any of the other meeting rooms he'd been in at the Garrison before. All it had was just a table, a projector screen on the far wall, and some chairs. All of them were empty except one on the far end where someone was sitting with their back to them.

When they turned Lance immediately recognized the mop of unkempt brown hair and glasses.

"Hey, you're that science-guy from the hallway!" he pointed, confused.

Hunk looked at him and blinked. "You know this guy...?"

"Yeah, he bumped into me in the hall on my way over—"

Science-guy's eye narrowed at that and they stood up quickly, clearly irritated. " _I_ bumped into _you?_ You're the one that ran into me!"

"Well yeah but I wouldn't have done that if _you_ hadn't come out of nowhere like that!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Oooh..." Hunk quickly held up both hands and started backing up, but Coran was there to put a steady grip on his shoulder to keep him steady.

"A-hah! I see you've already met, wonderful! Well that makes this a bit easier then doesn't it?" He stood tall and proud before making a sweeping gesture with one arm. "This lovely young individual here is your sonar and communications specialist! Miss Holt's on loan to us from the Olkari Institute of Oceanography. Top of her class for...well, for as long as she's been in school I reckon."

Lance blinked. Miss...?

"Oh wow, really?" All the reluctance in Hunk's form was gone in an instant, replaced with a look of excitement as he stepped forward to offer his hand. "I'm Hunk. Hunk Garrett. Engineering, look, I'm a huge fan of your dad's work. His work on cetacean wave harmonics was seriously ground-breaking. I cried reading that paper."

The hostility in her face lessened to something almost affable at the praise, and a guarded smile took its place. "Call me Pidge. It's nice to meet you, Hunk."

"Wait wait, he's a _girl?_ " Lance blurted out, startling them both. "You mean the ultra-gorgeous babe we're supposed to have on our team is _this guy_?"

He— _she_ —looked nothing like he'd imagined. She was short, her bedhead was out of control, and not a single part of her looked ripped. His precious dream of deep-sea romance crumbled in an instant, leaving him slacked-jawed in disbelief as Pidge levelled him with a scowl.

"What, is that a problem for you?" Her arms crossed over her chest. "Girls can't go diving into the deep ocean, is that what you're going to say?"

"W-what, _no_ , that isn't—" Lance recoiled in alarm and held up his hands, shaking his head and quickly trying to backpedal away from _that_ particular line of thinking.

"Now now!" Coran interrupted, stepping forward with both arms folded tightly behind his back. "None of that you two! You're all a crew now! That means you'll be working together as one unit. A whole greater than the sum of its parts! Each of you has a vital role to play on this crew, you need to get along."

"What, like on the _Kerberos_ mission?" Lance wrinkled his nose, making a face. "Because I heard their lead scientist went totally cuckoo-bananas and botched the whole thing. You telling me we're gonna put this—"

" _That's a lie!_ "

Pidge's voice cut through the air like a knife, silencing him mid-sentence as she whirled on him abruptly, expression fierce. Both hands were clenched tightly into fists, and when he tried to open his mouth she stormed forward and jabbed him in the chest hard enough to hurt.

"There was nothing wrong with the scientists on board the _Kerberos_! None of the reports that came back suggested anything that happened was the crew's fault!" Her eyes burned into him like searing coals, and for a moment Lance felt incredibly small. He didn't even realize he'd taken a half-step back until the weight of her finger fell away from his chest.

"Uhh...wh...b-but I..."

"If you have a problem with me, _Lance_ , that's fine. But you leave _Kerberos_ mission crew out of this. Got it?" she snarled, and before he could even make sense of how the heck she knew his name, Pidge was storming past him and out the door.

The air of tension left in her wake was stifling. Lance couldn't help but think that he'd stepped on some kind of landmine as he stared at the empty doorway, heart hammering nervously inside his chest.

"What the heck is _her_ problem?" he blurted out, missing the awkward glance Hunk and Coran exchanged as he threw his arms in the air.

"Um..." Hunk began to fidget just as Allura poked her head in past the doorway and blinked.

"Why is it just the three of you? Where is Miss Holt?"

"What, you mean miss _snobby pants_?" Lance drawled out sourly. "She threw a giant hissy fit and left! Some crew member she turned out to be."

"She left? Why? We need all three of you here to begin the briefing. We cannot start without her."

"Well then someone better go track her down. Dibs on not it."

Allura narrowed her eyes at him in confusion but Coran stepped up quickly with a salute. "You needn't worry, miss! Just a short tiff among teammates, you know how it is. I'll have the young Katie Holt back here in a jiffy!"

Lance was about to ask who the heck 'Katie Holt' was supposed to be when he remembered, _oh right,_ 'Pidge' was just a nickname.

"Right, well," Allura said, letting out a sigh and turning to the pair of them. "Until they return let us begin with the basics. Have a seat won't you? You'll find your data pads have been updated with crew and vessel information, as well as your mission itinerary for the next several weeks. We only have three months until we set out and there's much to be done."

"Like what...? We've already been training our butts off. I'm pretty sure I hold the Garrison record for time spent in the pressure tank at this point," Lance said, not even bothering to hide the bragging tone in his voice as he walked over to the table with Hunk at his side and took a seat.

Allura passed them both a data pad, identical thin sheets of blue translucent quartz.

"Training is surprisingly one of the things we are least concerned about," she admitted with a faint but focused smile. "As you know, public support for the _Derceto_ is currently mixed at best. After the last disaster people are understandably somewhat...skeptical. Our first task will be to rectify this! I've arrange for a series of interviews to be held—"

"Whoa whoa, interviews?" Lance straightened and leaned forward in his seat eagerly. "Like with reporters and cameras and junk?"

"Wait, no one said anything about holding an interview!" Hunk said, looking panicked. "Since when are we doing those? How many people are going to be there? I thought we were just going to board the ship and go when it was announced!"

Allura sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. "Yes, that was the plan originally. But once we were able to acquire Kat- ah, _Pidge_ on staff, the circumstances changed. Altea Industries feels it is in our best interests to take advantage of her presence on the _Derceto_ mission."

"Uuuugh, man what is the deal with her? Is she some sort of big shot or something? Did her parents give you guys a huge donation?" Lance asked, flopping back in his chair in annoyance. "Why is everyone so hung up on her? There's no way she's older than Hunk n' me."

The silence that followed stretched long enough that his spine began to prickle with goosebumps. One by one, each of them turned their eyes towards him. An uncomfortable ball of tension began to settle in the pit of his stomach. "...What? Why's everyone looking at me like that?"

"Lance," Allura began, baffled, "didn't you know? Pidge is the daughter of Samuel Holt, the lead scientist of _Kerberos_ mission. Her father and brother were both on board when it went dark."

Lance stared.

 _Oh_ , he thought. _Well shoot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand there we have it, the very first step of their journey! Not exactly the best start, but things are going to start building from here so please enjoy the trainwreck that is Lance putting his foot in his mouth. I had a lot of fun writing the interactions between Lance and Hunk... The Garrison Trio is just so good! But they've still got a long way to go before they become as close as they are in the show, haha TTvTT Let me know what you think in the comments, leave a kudo, etc. Feedback is always wonderful and appreciated!
> 
> You can also hmu on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) c: extra stuff like the research behind this fic will wind up there (because there's a lot, holy cow is the deep ocean fascinating???? Seriously. Check it out sometime).
> 
> The next update should follow roughly the same schedule of "about a week", and I'm going to see if I can maintain that pace. Thanks for reading!


	3. Symbiosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance apologizes...or tries to, anyway.

_Stay far from where old things sleep,_

_The darkness where the monsters creep._

_Harken to the deep-set cries,_

_The mourning songs that sing goodbyes._

_Beware the deep, do not get lost._

_And beware the deep which brings demise._

 

* * *

 

"You know, Lance really isn't as bad as you think."

Hunk didn't need to look up from the circuit board in front of him to know that Pidge was most likely leveling him with a flat stare.

"Are we really doing this?" she asked dryly.

"I'm just saying, yeah, sometimes he opens his mouth and a bunch of stupid stuff comes out. But at the end of the day he's actually a pretty decent guy. Lance always finds a way to come through." He brought the green chip in for a closer inspection, pressing his teeth into his tongue. He couldn't decide if the soldering on the tantalum filtering capacitors looked alright. Their positioning seemed fine, but when he put his mains tester against, it nothing lit up.

Hunk set it down and grabbed a pair of micro pliers from the toolkit to his left to begin tweaking at its base.

"I get that he's your friend and all, Hunk, but I'm not interested in getting along with someone who thinks that _shore leave_ is a good reason to become a diving specialist. He doesn't even get shore leave! Only professional sailors and the navy have that."

"Yeah, well, that's just the sort of guy Lance is. He doesn't always think things through," he said. "Just like he wasn't thinking when...y'know, he said that thing that he said that we definitely aren't supposed to talk about." He tried to look busy with the piece of tech in his hands but it was impossible not to get his gaze drift back over after a moment. Hunk couldn't decide if the look on Pidge's face was annoyed or offended. Probably a little bit of both in a sort of happy medium.

He couldn't blame Lance for feeling put off by it. _He_ felt that way and he was the one that actually got along with her.

There was something about the camaraderie between science-types that Hunk appreciated. It transcended the differences in fields of study, because when you got down to the root of it, weren't they all just people poking at stuff to see what made it tick? There was a familiarity there, a like-mindedness that meant that even if his best friend and Pidge could barely handle being in the same room together, at least he could find common ground with her in their work. There wasn't a pressing need for awkward hello's and getting to know one another when they hung out in the same room. Pidge stayed firmly rooted in front of her laptop and numerous pieces of audio equipment, and Hunk busied himself with circuit boards and control components. Most of their conversations consisted of asking each other to _pass that semiconductor_ or _where was that VGA adapter again?_

The rest was idle, comfortable conversation that came and went as their focus waxed and waned.

Except where Lance was concerned.

"You mean when he said exactly how he was feeling? Save it, I've heard it before." Her gaze narrowed, falling away from him and down to her keyboard. "People like him think they can just coast by, saying whatever they want because they think they're special. Like their words don't matter or they don't have consequences."

"He's really not you know," Hunk said, trying to give her a sympathetic look. "He made a stupid mistake and said a stupid thing, and yeah it was wrong and hurtful and he should totally apologize for it." Her shoulders tightened. "I'm just saying...give him a chance. To apologize, I mean. You don't have to like him but it is going to seriously suck if you guys are like this the whole time. I am not playing messenger for the two of you, no matter how perfect your calculations on sub-frequency sonar mapping are."

That finally got her to crack a wry smile. Good.

"Hmm...they are pretty perfect, aren't they? Thanks, Hunk. At least you get it. If I have to explain what difference between bistatic forward scattering and monostatic sonar reception to these Garrison eggheads one more time I swear I'm going to pop a gasket."

"Hey now, you leave that gasket popping to me. Or...don't, actually, ugh." Hunk grunted and flopped back in his chair, head tipped over the back and arms hanging at his sides. "This servomotor is kicking my butt right now."

He appreciated the sympathetic look she gave him as she turned her chair around and rolled herself over to his side.

"What's up with that thing anyway? What's it for?" She tilted her head, and for just a moment Hunk had a gut reaction of reluctance. Normally Lance would be the one asking these questions and he never had the patience to follow through on them to hear the answers. The guy tried, but mechanical science just wasn't his thing.

Pidge, though, was proving to be a whole different can of worms so far. Coran hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said she was at the top of her class. Sometimes she went off on tangents even _he_ couldn't follow. It was kind of cool, not being the only Brainiac for once.

Hunk pushed the feeling down and offered her a closer look.

"Ahhh...okay so you know how the _Derceto_ is supposed to have that wicked science door on the side right? The manipulator arm goes in there and that's how we're going to be able to take all those samples down there in all that pressure. It'd crush us if we went outside." He paused for a moment to shudder. "So, we use this thing instead. We've been developing the tech with Altea for years now and we've made some really good progress. When this baby's servos are up and running she can make precision-point movements so fine you could write your name on a sewing needle.

"Problem is," he said, beginning to frown at nothing in particular, "I can't quite get the third distal joint to move the way I want it. Something faulty in the wiring, or the motherboard maybe."

"...Is that bad?" she asked.

"I mean it's not ideal, it'll still work," he sighed, turning the chip in his hand over slowly. "It's not like it's going to stop us from diving or anything. But that extra bit of movement could really come in handy."

Pidge considered him for a moment before offering a brief smile. "We've still got nearly three months. That's plenty of time to figure it out." She laid a hand briefly on his shoulder and then pushed herself backwards, rolling across the room. "Don't rush a good job."

"That's easy for you to say! You're not the one everyone's going to blame if anything on this ship malfunctions! Besides, have you _seen_ the schedule Allura cooked up for us? That thing is nuts! We've got three daytime interviews alone this _week_. I'm never going to make it, that's it. I'm doomed. Finished!"

"Oh, right..." The tone in Pidge's voice dropped without warning so significantly that Hunk couldn't help but look over, surprised. He knew the whole thing was going to be a pain, but he didn't think anyone would be more bummed out over them than him. He was good at people where there was only a couple of them. He was less good with a whole audience of them.

The way Pidge reacted though made him concerned.

"...You okay?"

"I'm—fine." She waved him off. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing to me," he pointed out slowly, taking a moment to carefully lay down his tools and turn his own swivel chair to face her. She was sitting in front of her computer again but he could see that her hands remained in her lap, not on the keyboard. "Do you...wanna talk about it? Is it stage fright? Because, lemme tell you, I get wicked-bad stage fright. Feel like I'm gonna throw up and everything."

"It's not that. I don't care about the cameras or the people or stuff like that," she said. "I just hate it."

Hunk paused. "You hate daytime television?"

"I hate interviews."

"Ohhh." Wait, no, that didn't make any sense. Did it? Why would she hate interviews?

He must've been wearing a look on his face to that effect because a moment later she sighed heavily and turned her chair back around.

No wait _that_ definitely didn’t make sense, how would she know what kind of face he was wearing if her back was to him—

"It's because of the _Kerberos_."

"The _Kerberos_? Why? You weren't on that mission. Wouldn't you have been in like, high school when all that was going down?"

"Actually, I finished high school when I was twelve," she corrected with a faint ghost of pride in her voice. "But when the station went down and people wanted to find out what happened..."

"...They came to you," Hunk finished, eyes widening with dawning realization. Oh, crud. He should've caught on right the start; the _Kerberos_ had gone down a little over two years ago. That would have made her just seventeen at the time. Add to that losing half her family, the child genius angle and...wow. Yeah. Total media frenzy.

Pidge nodded.

"And my mom. She always did better at handling them than me. At first I thought...I thought people actually cared, you know? About what happened? What it all meant to me. Her." Her hands tightened into fists in her lap and her expression darkened. "But they didn't. None of them did. They just wanted a story to spin. 'The poor widow and her prodigy daughter.' They wanted to blame my...they wanted to blame dad for what happened. The _troubled scientist_ who got everyone killed. They used us and picked his whole career apart."

She clutched her hands harder. "They still do."

Hunk's heart felt like it had sunk into his stomach. He tried not to feel pity for her—he knew that was probably the last thing she wanted right now. He just felt...bad. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like, living through all of that. To have her whole life turned upside-down and taken advantage of like that.

Like it still was right now, if he thought about it. Didn't Altea know that?

"If you're really that uncomfortable with all of this...why are you going along with it?" he asked, voice quiet. "If it's like you say, then aren't you just putting yourself through all of that again? No...no offense or anything," he clarified quickly, holding up both hands. "I'm not judging you. I'm just wondering why you'd do it."

She didn't look upset by his question. Rather, she was resolved in a way that belied the vulnerable expression on her face just a moment ago.

"To get answers."

Hunk blinked. "Answers?"

"Allura was right when she said that the general public doesn't really know how to feel about another mission down into the Trench. The Komar station went dark and two years later we _still_ don't know what happened," Pidge said, slowly folding her hands together into a tight ball. "We don't even have a guarantee that it's still operational let alone recoverable. There's no way they'd get behind another mission like that. But..." she trailed off.

"But..." Hunk wracked his brain, trying to follow her train of logic and it hit him so suddenly he felt like an idiot. His eyes grew big. "But if _you_ join the crew then it becomes like a—like a rescue mission. Not to find...because—but like. Oh, man..."

"I'm a tragedy case. The media loves that. They find out I'm on the next crew headed down into the Komar and they'll be eating straight out of Altea Industries' palm." Hunk let out a weary groan and stared at her with no small amount of mortification.

"But Pidge, that means they're _using_ you. You're like a huge publicity stunt just to get them to sign off on us going down there."

"I know," she said. "I'm the one that gave them the idea."

" _What?_ "

"I know how it sounds but it's the only way I'm ever going to get down there and see what really happened on the _Kerberos_ mission myself." Pidge drew herself up and fixed him with a level stare, eyes suddenly bright. "This is my chance to prove what really happened. I could clear my father's name."

"Yeah, I get that," he admitted, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just...I mean. Not to sound insensitive or anything here Pidge but your brother and dad... Finding out what happened isn't going to bring them back. You know that right?"

"I know." She said the words with such clarity that Hunk wasn't sure how to feel about it. Most people might've tried to hold onto some vague, unrealistic hope that somehow, someway their father or brother might still be alive. Like maybe they managed to make it to the surface and drifted to a tropical island and gotten stranded. Maybe the whole thing had been a huge cover-up by someone looking to hide the truth. Maybe she could find them and bring them home.

Hunk couldn't see any of that in her face. It was just a sense of calm practicality, the kind that came from cutting off false hope at the root. Pidge knew her family wasn't coming home. He could see that plain as day.

"Is that going to be enough for you?" he asked softly. Pidge shrugged.

"It has to be."

 

* * *

 

Being a celebrity, Lance decided, was great.

Because that was what he'd become overnight after being officially announced as the _Derceto's_ deep dive pilot. Everywhere he went, he was met with words of congratulations or encouragement from classmate and instructor alike. People he'd never met before stopped him in the halls to say hi or ask about the mission. Some were more begrudging than others in their praise of course, old rivals or teachers he hadn't meshed well with like Iverson. But it was still _something_ , and that had Lance on cloud nine.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this, the center of everyone's attention. Lance didn't mind whether it was awe or jealousy that they shot his way; the staring alone made his chest swell with pride like a balloon about to burst.

And, you know. The international recognition helped too.

Allura hadn't been kidding when she told them they were working on a tight schedule. Gaining public support meant they needed to get as much media exposure as possible before they set out on their mission. In the first week alone, they'd had appearances on three separate talk shows, an exhausting three-hour session with a journalist doing a cover piece for _Square Magazine_ that was going to hit shelves in a few days, and tomorrow they were supposed to meet with several representatives from the people backing their excursion.

It was going to be a formal event, with particular importance placed on appearance and seeming affable to their sponsors. A fancy suit and tie was a must, but Lance hadn't worn one since his uncle's funeral a few years back.

Luckily, as well as running the whole production, Allura made sure that they were well-prepared to put their best foot forward as the _Derceto's_ crew. They were the face of the mission, the people the general public needed to get to know. To care about, if things were to go as they hoped. Lance didn't really think too much about _why_ it mattered that people adore them, so much as they did. A night of schmoozing and rubbing shoulders with bigwigs and some of his adoring fans was right up his alley. Heck, even _Hunk_ was excited for the party, although he suspected it was mainly because of the buffet spread boasted in the fancy embossed lettering of their official invitations.

The only one who didn't share this sentiment was, of course, Pidge.

 _Pidge_.

The two of them had barely been in the same room outside of interviews, let alone had time to speak to one another properly. As soon as they sat down it was nothing but an endless slew of questions, and when they were done Pidge was the first one out the door.

It wasn't as if Lance didn't try to catch her and apologize; more than once he'd attempted to pull her aside only to be brushed off or ignored. It was obvious she was avoiding him.

Which was fine. She needed space, he could get that. He wouldn't exactly be lining up to listen to someone who'd blamed an international disaster on someone he loved and admired either.

It was just a slightly more bitter pill to swallow when he compared it to how readily she and Hunk had hit it off. There had been no hiccups that prevented the two of them from working alongside one another late into the evening on their nights off. More than once he'd passed by the science wing and found them up to their necks in readouts and technical jargon he couldn't make heads or tails of.

Nights that would otherwise normally be reserved for _him_ and Hunk, whether it was doing something as laid back as watching a movie or the very philosophical topic of whether or not sharks with legs or a reverse-mermaid was more terrifying, were now scarce as their schedules filled up. Mission preparation necessitated that they stick to their own sectors during the day when there weren't any planned media events. The evening was just as busy...for Hunk and Pidge.

It was getting hard not to feel a little left out. His expertise was in the water, its ebb and flow and what he needed to do in order to be able to dive to the farthest reaches of its depths. He didn't know anything about hydraulic pumping rigs or sound underwater (other than that it was awfully muffled and sucked). Lance didn't have anything to contribute even when Pidge _didn't_ cover her ears with her headphones the minute he entered the room. He always returned the apologetic smiles Hunk sent his way, but that didn't stop it from sucking when he went turned in for the night and the bunk across from him remained empty.

The two of them got along fine, but _he_ wanted to get along fine too. Not just with him and Hunk, but Pidge as well. They were all supposed to be going down on this mission together. As a _team_. A united front of genius scientists, engineers, and totally-handsome pro divers. If things went as planned and they actually made it to the Komar, that would mean several months _at least_ spent in close quarters with one another. They couldn't afford to not get along, at least on a very basic communication level.

They'd never be able to pilot the _Derceto_ as things were.

But hopefully that would all change soon. The gala event would be his chance to finally take Pidge aside and apologize for everything. Maybe she'd forgive him, maybe she wouldn't, but he needed to do it all the same. Ideally it would involve some form of reconciliation and the two of them growing closer as teammates.

So...yeah. He just had to do that. No big deal, he totally had this.

 

* * *

 

Holy moly did he have this. Or more correctly, _Altea Industries_ had this, with 'this' being the most extravagant and luxurious party Lance had ever seen in his entire life.

For obvious reasons, it was held off-site of the Aquanautics Garrison. They were an organization based around underwater training, diving and exploration. It wasn't like the base boasted anything as grandiose and fitting as a venue for the gala Allura had in mind; the auditorium of their official announcement was the fanciest open space they had aside from the commissary. Most of the compound was comprised of dorm rooms for the attendees and staff alike, and the rest was used for either instruction or assessment in a variety of underwater conditions made possible by their close proximity to the Karthulian Coast.

It wasn't the ideal place for a fancy get-together of the world's rich and powerful.

But man, _this_ place was.

Lance had only ever seen The Prima Hotel in magazines before. It was a massive building, seventy-two stories tall that easily spanned nearly an entire city block. It sat smack-dab in the center of the thriving Griezian Sur, and that in itself was a whole different level of amazing to their motley crew. They'd been flown out on a private jet in the wee hours of the morning, given a brief tour of the city's landmarks and main attractions, and then rushed off to prepare for the evening's main event before they'd even had chance to adjust to the eight-hour time difference. Leaving at six in the morning and arriving at seven in another time zone was disorienting to say the least.

He was starting to think that it was all totally worth it now though.

The Grand Ballroom was at least half the size of a football field in length and only slightly narrower in width, a vaulted ceiling littered with crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. All the walls were donned with crown molding and along each length of the room large columns of marble rose up in decorative pillars.

A quarter of the room had been split into an auditorium and stage with dozens of rows of seating for all in attendance. The stage at the front had to be made of something _incredibly_ expensive, considering how pristine and angled it was.

Behind that, the room opened up into an intricate arrangement of tables and buffets, each with their own serving staff, and world-famous chefs to prepare hors d'oeuvre fresh and to each guest's specifications. It boasted no less than five open bars, and at the very back, taking up the last quarter of the room, was a dance floor that he could practically see his reflection in.

So yeah. In a word? _Swanky as heck_. Or three words, whatever. The point was it was incredible and that wasn't even counting the threads Coran had dug up for the three of them.

He and Hunk had matching black tuxes and white dress shirts that had been tailored specifically for them. Snazzy bowties were, of course, included. Pidge wore a contrasting pale green dress that just barely covered her shoulders, and somehow, _somehow_ , Allura had managed to corner her into having her hair gelled and styled so it wasn't an unkempt mess for once. It was impressive. Pidge cleaned up nice.

Not like—not _nice_ in the way he'd use to as an excuse to go and hit on someone with. Just...nice. It was probably Allura's way of trying to play up Pidge's presence on the mission; she definitely stood out comparatively when standing next to them. Or, well. Next to Hunk. Pidge still wasn't talking to him even after a great one-liner about the cocktail sausages being _the wurst_.

It wasn't the greatest start to the evening, but at least needing to appear united and amicable in front of the many dozens of people sponsoring their mission meant that Pidge couldn't outright snap at him. Coran was quick and eager to direct them around the room to various important parties that needed to make their acquaintance: members of Altea Industries' board of directors, prominent shareholders, a few local celebrities who'd shown up simply to attach themselves to the media storm of their arrival. They even found themselves being introduced to a number of corporate heads Lance had never even heard of.

And all of them were particularly interested in Pidge. Everyone wanted to meet and greet the daughter of the _Kerberos_ crew disaster. One in particular had a rather vested interest in questioning her, a tall, sharp-featured woman with hair so dark and red it almost looked purple in the warm lighting of the room. She reminded him a little of a teacher he'd had in primary school, especially the part where he and Hunk may as well have been empty space as far as she was concerned.

It was obvious she held no interest in them, and while part of him felt insulted he was also glad to be given a moment to duck away and breathe for a moment. While she occupied herself with their smallest member, he and Hunk flagged down one of the wandering guys with plates full of appetizers. An hour into the party and this was the first chance they'd had to actually put food inside their bodies.

"Man...when they told us this was going to be a party I expected like...food and dancing and telling cool stories and junk!" Lance grumbled, shoving a tiny cracker covered in little black globules into his mouth petulantly.

He regretted it immediately when the taste of _slime_ and _seawater_ exploded inside his mouth, doubling over and clamping a hand over his face to keep from spewing it everywhere.

"I'm just happy we finally have time to eat. I didn't even get to enjoy breakfast this morning because of the plane. Good thing they made those airsick bags extra-durable." He didn't even flinch as he watched Lance's display, downing a mouthful of the same black goop a moment later. "I really hope going down in the _Derceto_ isn't anything like going up in the air."

Lance squinted at him in disbelief and disgust, nearly gagging a second time before he managed to snag a drink and forcibly wash away as much of the fishy taste as possible. It took three difficult gulps before it felt like he wasn't about to puke everywhere.

"First off, gross. And I don't mean the airbag fiasco from earlier," he said. "Second of all, we're going down in a submersible with yours truly at the helm—it'll be the smoothest ride you've ever had! Like taking a cruise. I could put babies to sleep with my excellent piloting."

"Yeah, but we're also going to be heading straight down. It'll be like dropping in an elevator. I hate that feeling! Like your insides are being all squished upwards and your stomach starts floating..." He made a face, shuddering.

"You hate every feeling that isn't you standing on the ground."

"Yes. Yes I do, and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Well you're going to have to get used to it," Lance said, amused. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened out, a hand on his hip as he watched displeasure and dread flash across his friend's features. "We're starting test-dives in that baby at the end of the week. You're gonna be going down into the Big Blue for real now."

"You know, I signed up to be an engineer to avoid stuff like this. I like it here on land! Where it's safe and dry and not filled with a million different creatures that want to make a meal out of me in the middle of nowhere."

"Come ooooon Hunk, it won't be that bad. Where we're going there's way too much pressure for there to be anything big enough to eat us." Lance reached over to drape an arm across his shoulders, a sly drawl in his tone. Already he could see the reluctant gears turning in Hunk's eyes. It did not make him regret his next words. "You're more likely to get crushed to a pulp than eaten!"

"You are the _worst_ friend ever, I hope you realize that."

Lance remained steadfast under the withering stare Hunk sent his way and grinned. "Aww, don't worry buddy. I'll keep you safe! It'll be just me, you, in a love boat made for two."

"You mean three. There's three of us going on this mission Lance," he reminded, giving Lance a look he knew was meant to be a cautious but meaningful probe. Hunk wanted to know how things were going with Pidge. It sobered the mood between them instantly.

He sighed and let his goofball expression go, drawing away just enough to allow Hunk to stand without holding his weight.

"Yeah, I know."

"Have you—?" he began.

"No, not yet." Lance pulled his arm back to himself and resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair. "But I'm going to. Tonight," he added, seeing the slight frown already beginning on Hunk's features. "I just need to find the right time to do it, you know? I don't want her to duck out again."

"Yeah, I get you. Just don't wait too long okay? I know she's been blowing you off and we haven't had time to hang out as much with all this stuff going on, but I'm here for you, man. Okay? If you want I can try talking to her and see if it'll help."

Lance felt a swell of warmth fill his chest, earlier smile returning to his features.

"Thanks, man. I think I gotta do this one on my own though, you know?"

"Oh yeah, this one was totally on you. Definitely. But I'm glad you're on top of it." A large, warm hand clapped him on the back. "Just maybe don't do the whole 'cool guy' routine with her."

"What routine? I _am_ a cool guy. Coolest guy this side of—"

"Yep, nope, that right there. Don't do that."

Lance sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically but didn’t push the issue. He knew Hunk had a point. Pidge probably wouldn't appreciate him being over the top about this. He just had to approach it calm and slow, as soon as she had a free moment. Which should've been soon, he figured, since it was going on a couple of minutes now. Pidge had to be feeling as hungry as they did by now.

Leaning back to peer past Hunk's frame, Lance let his eyes scan the nearby crowd for the telltale green of Pidge's outfit. He found her almost immediately, still standing with the woman from before. Only where she'd looked at least marginally in a good mood when they left (at least enough to speak to people and seem pleased about it), that definitely wasn't the case now.

Pidge's expression was drawn tight, lips pursed and a furrow in her brow. She wasn't quite glaring yet, but whatever the woman was saying definitely wasn't making a good impression; she looked upset in a way similar to when Lance had brought up the Kerberos mission. He frowned.

"Hey—I'll be right back, hold this for a sec." He didn't wait for Hunk to respond before he passed his drink and took off into the crowd. It didn't take long to wind his way through the sea of bodies until he caught sight of fuchsia hair, but he still felt an underlying sort of urgency to it all the same. Whatever the woman was saying to her wasn't friendly.

"—just find it rather odd that you of all people would volunteer for such a mission," the woman's tone firm and inquisitive when Lance got close enough to catch it, not quite condescending but close enough that Lance felt himself reflexively bristle. "One would think that the losses incurred on the _Kerberos_ would be enough to make you reconsider the position. Certainly there are more qualified individuals, those without the same level of...liability."

" _Liability?_ "

 _Holy crap_ , did this lady have a death wish or something? Lance wasn't even the target of Pidge's ire and he could feel his stomach drop when she spoke. The woman, however, appeared unfazed and Lance had to wonder just what sort of composure she was rocking not to wither under the glare being sent her way. How she could just keep going even as Pidge visibly became more and more agitated? He could already see her balling her fists with the effort it took to restrain herself and Lance wasn't sure it would last much longer.

"It is no secret that those who perished in the previous mission were your family. In fact, it rather seems to me that Altea Industries means to capitalize on this. But such an obvious emotional investment carries a level of—"

Pidge opened her mouth and Lance heard every internal warning he had go off at once.

"Heyyy, there you are!" he interrupted, voice probably louder than it needed to be. And maybe a little high-pitched as well, but that wasn't important. Definitely not a detail worth thinking about later.

Lance quickly linked his arm with Pidge's before he had time to protest and tugged lightly. "Been lookin' all over for you, Holt. Allura wants us all over by the podium for a photo-op, something with the fat cats sponsoring—uhh. I mean the _generous_ and _highly-valued_ individuals kindly sending us to the bottom of the ocean. Those guys. We have to go talk to them now!"

Her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously and Lance prayed that the very pointed way he moved his eyes from her, to off to the side would get his point across. That was totally the universal sign for _we need to exit stage left like right now_ , and if she didn't get it he was going to start looking very stupid, very fast.

...More stupid than usual.

Fortune favored him in that moment though and even if she didn't look particularly pleased to have him so near (scowled, actually), she didn't tug her arm out of his grip and turned her stare back to the woman.

Lance breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Then, he turned a dazzling smile to their dark-haired company; his very best, the kind meant to charm even the most resilient of ladies.

"You'll have to excuse us. But you know, if you ever want to do a little one-on-one exclusive with yourself truly..." He waggled his eyebrows and let the invitation trail off, a killer move he'd perfected in the mirror numerous times over the years. There was no way it wouldn't work.

The woman turned her attention back to Pidge and gave a very short, very curt nod.  "Good evening, Miss Holt."

Okay so yeah, that hurt the old ego a little. But it was also their cue to get going, so Lance wasted no time in offering a tight grin and wave before quickly pulling Pidge away.

It was only once they were clear and out of immediate sight that he allowed himself to relax and let out a breath. That was just a bit too close for comfort. Another minute or two and who knows what that lady would've said to set Pidge off. Lance was no master of suave gala events, but he was fairly certain that decking a possible sponsor wasn't proper party etiquette. Pidge could've gotten in major trouble for that.

Though speaking of... She hadn't said a word to him throughout the entire exchange. Which wasn't in itself all that surprising considering how things had been between them up until now, but he'd been expecting something like a snap or some kind of snarky comment. Pidge was just...quiet. It was weird, and when he risked a curious glance down he found her avoiding his gaze to scowl at something off to the side.

At least that was normal.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to the punch and cut him off.

"The podium's over that way," she said. Her voice was flat, hard. Lance stared for a moment, caught off guard. Eventually he nodded and shrugged, rolling his shoulders and turning his gaze back out in front of them.

"I know. We're not headed to the podium."

He fully expected her to pull her arm away from him at that, but to his surprise there was nothing more than a brief moment of resistance before she reluctantly allowed him to lead her further into the crowd. He took that as a good sign and allowed himself to let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. This was okay. They could do this. It was clunky and awkward but she wasn't actively trying to pry herself away from him, and Lance considered that a step forward in the right direction.

She didn't ask him where they were going and remained quiet until they emerged from the busy throng of people and emerged at the end of the main dance floor. Heavy draped curtains were pulled back to frame the glass doors that led to a sparsely-occupied outdoor patio and veranda, and Lance didn't stop until the warm, fresh air of the outside hit their faces.

It was a clear night but the stars remained invisible above them thanks to the bright lights of the city. Lance thought that was just a little bit sad; the Aquanautics Garrison always had a really good view of the night sky thanks to being tucked away on the coast, on the very outskirts of the city. It was quiet and peaceful there when everyone turned in for the night.

In striking contrast, it didn't seem like anyone in Griezian Sur slept at night. The city was filled with activity even with the sun long since set on the horizon.

"So... Quiet out here huh? Guess all the party animals are inside," he tried, a subdued and careful attempt at humor. Pidge pursed her lips and slipped her arm from his, levelling him with an unimpressed look.

Okay, maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped. He tried again.

"That woman was a real piece of work huh? She was really rocking that stern-teacher look. Think she's one of the people paying for this?"

"I didn't need your help back there." Pidge crossed her arms over her chest when he blinked, surprised.

"...Yeah," he nodded slowly. "I know that."

She bristled. "So then why would you—"

"Because I wanted to," he said, and when Pidge opened her mouth to reply he held up his hands to mollify her. "I know you don't need my help with jerks like that. I _was_ a jerk like that and you totally ripped into me no problem."

That seemed enough to keep her from interrupting long enough to listen, so he continued.

"You didn't need me. But I wanted to? And let's be honest, if you went off on that lady like you wanted to, we'd _all_ be looking at a very different schedule for the next three weeks. I'm talking life-changing levels of regret here on all sides." He shrugged. "Definitely not saying she didn't deserve it though. Or that I didn't either after...y'know."

Pidge frowned, but the look was different now. She wasn't scowling at him with anger and dislike, but rather confusion. Like she didn't quite know what to make of him. Lance hoped the way he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck looked as sheepish as he felt doing it. This was the longest she'd spent in his company without people between them since he'd shoved his foot far enough down the back of his throat to gag on it. Sure, she hadn't really said much yet. But he was hopeful.

They could do this. Lance took a breath.

"Listen Pidge, about before... "

"Lance..."

"No, wait," he held up a hand quickly. "Please, just let me—"

" _Lance_."

"Mister McClain." The voice came from behind without so much as a lick of warning, deep and charismatic and totally unexpected. Lance would like to say that he handled it with poise and grace, that he turned around calmly with a lifted brow to see just who'd snuck up on them like that.

In reality he just barely managed not to scream as he jumped forward, reflexively latching onto Pidge's shoulders and ducking behind her to put a physical barrier between him and...and...

Oh, _wow_. Lance was fairly certain he'd scoped out most, if not all the attractive ladies at the start of the party when they'd arrived, but apparently he'd missed one. He thought distantly it was maybe because unlike most of the party-going socialites in attendance, she wasn't wearing the standard one-piece and pumps that left ample amount of arm and leg bare. Instead, she'd opted for a sleek black suit and blouse that left her looking groomed and sharp. Not cold, but polished in a way that had him giving her a quick once-over from top to bottom as a wave of excitement washed over him.

 _Please_ tell him she was a fan or something. Preferably here to get his autograph. Or talk. Talking to her would be great. He should probably say something back shouldn't he? She'd already used a bunch of words and here he was, staring.

She didn't wait for him to respond.

"You are him, aren't you?"

Lance straightened quickly and cleared his throat, unable to keep from clutching at Pidge's shoulders. He was only distantly aware of the way she tensed beneath him and sent a frown back his way.

"Baby, for you? I'd be anyone you want," he said, flashing her the same smile he'd tried to use earlier. It worked as well as it had the first time and the woman stared at him coolly. He wasn't deterred and stepped forward confidently. "So how about it? You here for some sort of exclusive? An autograph? Got something special of yours I could sign?"

Lance was halfway through pulling a pen from his inside pocket he'd prepared for just such a scenario when she interrupted him. "I'm looking for Lance McClain. If that isn't you then you are wasting my time."

"Uhh..." Okay, not the reaction he was expecting there. That was a little rude. "...Yeah? Yes. That's me." He blinked and dropped all pretenses of flirting, watching her more cautiously now. "Why? I'm actually sort of in the middle of something right now."

"Oh, were you?" It was Pidge who spoke up, her tone unimpressed and hard. Lance turned back to face her and was immediately met with a look of annoyance that had his stomach filling with dread. Not good. He needed to save this. He could already see his chance to make amends slipping away.

"No, wait, Pidge—it's not like that, I was just—"

"Save it, Lance," she said coolly, cutting him off with a sharp glare. "That's why you're here, isn't it? Enjoy your _one-on-one_."

Without another word she shoved past him, but not before jabbing an elbow into his side on her way that had him yelping. Oh no, no no no...this was all going wrong. He couldn't let her leave now, not like this. Why did he have to go and turn on the charm like that? Stupid, _stupid_.

"Pidge...!" He tried to run after her but the dark-haired woman stepped in front of him and blocked her from his view.

"Mister McClain."

He groaned and craned his neck, trying to peer around her. He could see Pidge's head starting to disappear into the crowd. "Look I don't have time for this okay?? I gotta go get her before she hates me forever! If you want an interview just...talk to Coran or something! He'll hook you up!"

" _Mister McClain_." All pretenses of neutrality were suddenly gone from the woman's tone, replaced by a hardness that left no room to argue. Her eyes were narrowed and he couldn't help wondering how many people were going to stare at him like that before the night was over. "This is not a pleasure call. I am here to escort you."

"Escort me?" Lance's eyebrows lifted into his hairline incredulously. "Now wait just a minute here..."

"Your presence has been requested by my employer. It would benefit you greatly to meet him." That's what she said, but Lance had a gut feeling that this 'meeting' was anything but optional. He didn't like it. And what he didn't like, he didn't touch.

"Yeah...that sounds great and all but I'm going to have to pass," Lance said with a nonchalance he didn't really feel. It was a thin veil for his own mounting irritation and he knew she'd pick up on that, which was the point. "I've got a pretty sweet deal going on with Altea Industries and the whole 'diving into the bottom of the ocean where basically no one has been before, ever.' Soooo." He shrugged. "Maybe next time."

He didn't wait for her to reply before he wove his way around her and moved past, only to find himself immediately blocked by someone broader and taller. Lance stopped just short of smacking his face into theirs and flinched backwards, an angry retort already on his lips when he looked up to tear into them...and stopped when he found himself looking into the most penetrating blue eyes he'd ever seen.

And with a start Lance realized he _knew_ this guy. The dark skin and white hair was unmistakable, but he was tall, so much taller than he'd looked up on stage at the Garrison. Lance's head only came up to his chin. His shoulders were broad and strong and dwarfed him easily. Part of him wondered if the guy had ever considered a career in professional rugby. He had the build for it, if not the air about him. Lance could already feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and he took a short half-step backwards.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder of my assistant had lost you." The man's voice was deep, smooth. Confident in the kind of way people who often got what they wanted had. He held out a hand to Lance and when he hesitated just long enough for the man to notice, his eyes to glinted with mirth. Lance bristled and decided to keep his arms firmly at his sides. He smiled tersely.

"Oh, so she's _your_ pushy assistant. That's good to know." If she was at all bothered by his description she didn't show it, merely moving to hover just behind him. Her expression remained neutral. Lance crossed his arms over his chest and let out an impatient breath. "She can fill you in on the details then, because I reeeeally gotta be somewhere else right now."

The man held up the same hand to stop him before he'd even taken a step, and Lance resisted the urge to groan internally. What was it with people and sabotaging him tonight, seriously?

"A moment of your time is all that is required. I'm confident Miss Holt will not mind. She will be similarly...occupied, if I am not mistaken." He smiled and it seemed genuine enough, but Lance still found himself wary. The man must've noticed and continued. "Several of the contributors to the Olkari Institution wished to meet their young prodigy. I imagine she will be busy with them for quite some time once they find her."

Lance had to be cursed or something. That was the only way to explain the utterly _phenomenal_ amount of bad luck he was having tonight. Not only had he struck out with Pidge, but now he apparently had this guy to deal with too. Whoever he was. All he could tell from a glance was that he looked important and that wasn't very helpful; it was obvious he wouldn't be getting out of this without at least listening to what the man had to say.

He sighed.

"Okay, what's up?" he asked, expression mellowing out in defeat. "What d'you need to talk to me about? Is it at least important? Because I really need to go catch up with Pidge, meeting or not."

The man nodded. "But of course. My sincere apologies for my assistant's...interruption. I had hoped to catch you while you were otherwise unoccupied. You've been quite the center of attention tonight." The way he said it sounded earnest and made a tiny part of him preen at the recognition, but the keen glint in the man's eyes made Lance wonder just how sincerely he meant it.

"Oh...well. I mean, the whole _Derceto_ thing is a pretty big deal I guess yeah." He decided to play it cool, shrugging despite the very faint note of pleasure in his voice. "Altea's pretty interested in getting us out there."

"Especially Miss Holt, it would seem." The man's lips quirked knowingly. "She's been quite the reluctant star in recent years. What with all that rather unfortunate business concerning her father and brother. I can see why Altea Industries would capitalize on such an opportunity."

Well if he hadn't felt guilty about the whole slip-up before, that would certainly do it. Lance could feel his gut churn uncomfortably as he thought of her, faced with the tragedy of her family's death and the media attention that followed. The scrutiny and accusations Hunk may or may not have let slip in the days following his blunder. Lance looked at the floor as a wave of shame washed over him and pursed his lips.

"Yeah..." He was no better than those bottom-feeding reporters. He'd bought their wild speculations just like everyone else, far more concerned with the loss of the Garrison's finest. His hero; the man Lance had aspired to be, maybe even one day overtake. He'd barely even thought about the father and son lost on the mission beyond cursory notice at the time, and it ate away at him now when he thought about it.

"Her presence on the mission is truly invaluable, certainly. But I happen to be of the belief that there is further potential in the rest of the crew. There has been growing talk of the mission's _pilot_ , from what I hear."

Wait, what? Lance lifted his head with a clueless blink, and right as if he'd been waiting for it the man offered him a look that could only be described as _appreciative_. Which was odd, because as far as he knew he hadn't done anything to impress the guy. He'd only seen him fleetingly, and not once had their eyes met.

"The...pilot?"

His confusion only seemed to amuse the man further. He nodded towards Lance.

"That is you, isn't it? The one who will be piloting our submersible into the Trench?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, no, that's me!" Lance straightened quickly, flustered, and shook his head. _Get your head on your shoulders, Lance!_ "I'm piloting it. The ship."

Eloquent. Awesome.

"That would seem to be the case, yes." The man's eyes glinted with mirth and Lance felt his face heat up in response. "That is quite a feat to boast. If I recall there were only a handful of candidates who applied which possessed the qualifications necessary to operate such a vehicle at the depths this mission hopes to achieve. Your simulation and pressure scores were particularly impressive. High levels of barometric pressure are no laughing matter, after all. And yet somehow you take to them as if they were entirely natural."

Lance felt his heart skip a beat. It was just for a moment, but he swore his stomach near-well _flopped_ at hearing words no-one but an experienced diver might throw around in casual conversation. Suddenly, being held up by this guy didn't seem nearly so bad.

This guy knew his _scores_.

He brought his hand to his mouth and faked a cough, trying not to grin too widely.

"Oh...well, y'know. All part of the training we do for this kind of thing. We've got a _pret_ -ty strict program over there. Only the best of the best even make it through the first year. It's brutal." It sounded impressive, and it was. Because he knew it was true.

"Like yourself." There wasn't even a pretense of humor or disbelief in the man's tone and it threw Lance for a moment. He looked up at him in surprise and saw nothing to the contrary. If anything, there was a sort of respect that made him feel even more out of his element. He was used to the grudging acknowledgement of his peers and instructors, and yeah, the media had been starting to catch on and play it all up following the announcement. But none of them really _knew_ anything about what was required to do what Lance did every day. The risks he faced or the science behind it.

But this guy did. And not only that, he acknowledged it. Lance was at a loss for words.

"W— _chyeah_ , of course! Duh! Because I'm _amazing_. You Altea guys made the right choice, just saying. No one's gonna make that baby purr like yours truly. I was _made_ for this mission." Okay so maybe not a _total_ loss for words. Only slightly.

The man's eyes flashed and his lips quirked as if he were reacting to some kind of inside joke, but the nod he gave following it wasn't humoring in the least. He was genuinely agreeing with him.

"Indeed you were, Mister McClain. I do not believe there is anyone better suited for this undertaking. In fact, I'm certain that in your capable hands Altea Industries will have nothing to worry about. There is no need to fear a repeat of the last mission's follies while manned under your watchful eye." He took a step forward and moved until he could lay one firm hand on Lance's shoulder, like a mentor congratulating a student. "You are the backbone of this mission after all. Your crew will count on your guidance once things get underway."

Lance reacted instinctively and puffed his chest up, lips curved high in a bold and elated smile. This guy was just nailing each and every one of his ego's flags without missing a beat; gone was his earlier irritation and in its place now stood delight. Lance could appreciate a guy with good taste. Especially when that taste was _him_.

"Heck yeah! I mean, yes—sir." Lance's grin was positively giddy and not at all professional, and he didn't care. "I won't let you guys down. We're gonna nail this mission no sweat."

The man squeezed his shoulder and offered him a firm nod of appreciation. "I'm glad I can count on you, Mister McClain. May I call you Lance?"

"Well sure, dude," he shrugged, and then almost immediately froze. Professional, he was supposed to be _professional_. Professionals didn't call business directors or whatever this guy was 'dude'! "—Uh."

Lucky for him the man took it in stride and only wound up flashing a light grin back at him that had Lance wishing that they were talking for reasons other than business. Because seriously, _damn_. He'd add this guy to his to-do list any day. Totally lady-killer material.

"It's quite alright. The informality is refreshing. More...personal." He smirked and Lance knew immediately he was right. This guy was a real smooth talker. "I'd like to think I'll have that chance with you, Lance."

Oh, Quiznak. The way he waited to use his name like that at the very end had to be deliberate, but damn if it wasn't effective. Lance's stomach swirled with anticipation.

"It would be quite the privilege to get to know our most valuable crew member. We wouldn't be going anywhere without you."

God, did this guy ever stop? His ego was going to reach stratospheric proportions at this rate. He could already feel his nose growing. In a minute here, he was going reach insufferable levels of pride. If all galas were like this, he could see himself going to a _lot_ more of them.

There was no amount of good sense that could prevent Lance from reaching over and slinging his arm around the guy's shoulders as if they were old pals, a roguish smirk plastered across his lips. And even better, the man didn't even seem fazed by it. His assistant sure blinked and looked like she wanted to step in and interject, but a single raised hand was all it took to stop her in her tracks.

Lance's ego swelled.

"Seriously, you keep talking like that and we're going to be best friends before you even grab me a drink."

"So you would like something to drink, then." The man's smile turned coy. Lance nodded without an ounce of shame.

"If you're buying."

"I'm fairly certain the bar here is open."

"Uh-huh, and so am I after all that sweet-talk you sent my way." Lance hummed without missing a beat, shooting him a single finger gun. "An open book, I mean. But you can take that any way you like, Mister...uhh..."

He faltered. _Oh. Right._ He'd completely forgotten to grab this guy's name. He probably should have done that before he started up with the dirty jokes.

"Lotor." The look on the man's face was smooth, pleased. A cat who'd gotten its cream. "Call me Lotor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is The Worst and I apologize forever even though I had a blast writing it. Lotor's a hard character to nail down, but I like to think of him as closer to his S3 self, working those angles to get what he wants. Lance was a mess as usual. But things will get better...hopefully.
> 
> As always, you can find me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff for the fic gets posted!
> 
> I am also looking for a beta or two to help out if anyone is interested c: please hmu if you think you'd have time.


	4. Sea Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Testing for the Derceto begins in earnest, but things are still strained between the crew. Hunk remains a voice of reason, Lance tries to apologize for a second time, and Pidge just wants to do her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a poet....can you tell 8') This chapter is double the usual length and was originally almost 20k? But I split it up into two. Enjoy!
> 
>  **Edit:** There was a slight error when posting this chapter the first time where for some reason it got super-backdated?? So bizarre. Hopefully it's fixed, sorry for the confusion!

_Ever silent must you keep,_

_Make no sound, do not weep._

_Keep close these warnings, don't forget,_

_For they will keep you safe and yet:_

_Beware the deep, do not get lost._

_And beware the deep,_

_Beware the deep._

 

* * *

 

When Lance woke the next morning, he was alone. His head was pounding and his neck was sore, and when he cracked his eyes open blearily a moment later he was glad that at least he had the foresight to draw the curtains of his hotel suite the night before.

God, last night. Lance rolled onto his stomach with a groan, one hand coming up to rub at his face.

It wasn't too difficult to recall the events of the night prior if he focused. Things got a little hazy at the end, but he distinctly remembered being invited to a private dining table that had been set aside specially for Lotor. He'd ordered them drinks, Lance had maybe tried to flirt a little (a lot), and at some point Lotor's secretary had leaned in to whisper something in the man's ear. He couldn't remember the specifics of the exchange, except that whatever was had cut their meeting short; Lotor was needed elsewhere, but Lance was free to contact him if he ever had need of anything.

Lotor had leaned in, Lance tried to copy him, lips warm and chapped...and then he'd tucked a business card into the front pocket of his suit.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of his life and Lance whined into his pillow in real time as the tips of his ears burned. How desperate for attention did he need to be for a few compliments to be all that was needed before he started throwing himself at aloof corporate executives? _Obviously_ all the guy had wanted was to make sure he was getting his money's worth with the crew selected, but...he'd still sort of hoped. Ugh.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd pull a twofer here and wind up suffocating himself with the bedding instead of just burying his face with it.

That had been the worst of it, but it was still embarrassing to make his way back over to the gang afterwards, slightly tipsy and not exactly at his best. Allura hadn't been happy but Hunk—perfect, wonderful Hunk—had stepped in on his behalf and promised to make sure Lance got back to his room okay. Lance had insisted he was fine and didn't need the help, but hadn't protested much either when Hunk slung an arm under his and around his shoulders and eased him from the party.

It was odd, but Lance couldn't recall whether he'd seen Pidge at all among their group. He could remember looking for her, but not beyond that. He wondered if she'd gotten held up by those...benefactors that'd been looking for her, or whatever.

Thinking about her now was sobering and Lance rolled slowly onto his back until he could stare up at the ceiling with a soft frown. He was going to do it today. He _had_ to do it today. He'd catch her at brunch; even nursing a hangover Lance had enough of his mental facilities to know they were supposed to be meeting with an executive from Altea's western headquarters. He didn't know why of course, but all of them were expected to attend and that would be when he pulled Pidge aside and finally set things right between them.

Lance's brow hardened with his resolution and he pushed himself upright abruptly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. No more excuses, no more distractions. He was going to rock this apology.

Right after he finished hurling all over the floor.

 

* * *

 

If Hunk had to ascribe a word to the way Lance looked when he staggered into the hotel cafe later that morning, it would be "not great."

Which was technically two words, but in this particular case he felt they were both necessary.

For as long as Hunk had known him, Lance had never gone out in public with anything less than a perfectly moisturized and maintained appearance. He took exceedingly great pains to make sure he looked his best no matter the cost to himself, or, to Hunk's chagrin, him. More than once he'd had to run down the hall to the Garrison's shared bathrooms to make it in time when Lance had holed himself up inside theirs over an 'emergency blemish the size of New York.'

It was strange to see him now, eyes sunken and baggy like he'd hadn't slept (which would be truly impressive considering Lance'd practically been snoring logs when Hunk dropped him off at his room the night before).

Not only that but his skin looked pale and clammy, and when he got near enough to grab the back of his chair Hunk noticed his eyes seemed a little bloodshot too.

Hunk only felt a little bad for him. He'd tried to tell Lance off on celebratory drinking, but there he'd gone anyway, making friends with the richest and snootiest while he was stuck following Coran around to meet Important Person after Important Person, all by himself. Alone. Because that's how he'd wound up after Lance left him with his drink.

Lance was getting his just desserts now, and Hunk could appreciate that.

The sorry state he'd left himself in though...not that so much. He looked pretty bad and wasn't even trying to pull out his chair to take a seat. He'd just stopped with his hand on the back of it and was looking back and forth, impatient and agitated.

"Lance? Buddy? You okay, man? You look a little..." Wrecked, exhausted, awful. All of the above? Yeah. Definitely all of the above.

"Where's Pidge?" Lance didn't even look at him when he asked, and caught off guard as he was, Hunk barely had time to pause around a confused, 'huh?' before Lance continued.

His eyes darted out over the lounge. "Pidge. She's always at these things before me. She didn't come by already and leave, did she?"

"Uhh...no, I don't think so? Why?"

"Have you seen her at all?" Lance answered his question with another and Hunk's eyebrows slowly lifted into his bangs.

"Nope, not since last night. You know, when you guys both totally ditched me with Coran. Which, you know, thanks for that. No offense, Coran."

He spared a glance across the table at the man in question and gave the man a knowing look. Coran nodded without missing a beat. "None taken!" The perfect image of pleasantness and understanding.

Lance was less moved by this newfound camaraderie and groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "No way she's still back in her room... Maybe I missed her back in the hallway."

"Why're you looking for her? You guys made up last night, right?" When Lance grimaced instead of replying right away Hunk's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You went and apologized to her, didn't you? I saw you go off together! Don't tell me you managed to screw that up again! How could you screw that up again?"

"I don't know!" Lance threw his hands in the air, only to bring them down and grab clumps of his own air immediately after miserably. "I don't know okay! One minute we were having, like, a total moment! And then—"

Hunk recoiled. "No way man, no. You did _not_ hit on her. I _told_ you!"

"Wh—no! Hunk!" This time it was Lance who balked in horror, staring at him like he'd told Lance fanny packs were still in style. "I didn't hit on anyone!"

He paused.

"Or...not—I didn't hit on Pidge okay?" Hunk resisted the urge to groan and Lance whirled around on him, gesturing animatedly. "I was _trying_ to apologize, but like everyone and their mom had it out for me last night! First it was this totally rigid assistant, then her boss, and _apparently_ Pidge wound up busy with some Olkarion guys. I couldn't get a single word in!"

"Ah! Yes, that reminds me. I'm afraid young Pidge won't be joining us for refreshments this morning."

Coran's sudden interruption caught both of their attention and they turned to look at him in unison. Hunk was the first to speak.

"Is she okay? She didn't get, like, sick or anything after the party did she?" Unlike certain unnamed best friends of his, _Lance_. He didn't need to look over to know the other man was shooting laser beams with his eyes for that.

Coran didn't appear to notice.

"No no, she's quite alright! Just a bit of business with those Olkari folk Lance mentioned, funny enough. You see, it wasn't much of an exaggeration when I mentioned she was on a bit of a loan from the Oceanography Institute. Even though she's been selected for our mission into the Kraydah Trench, technically speaking Pidge still very much works for the Olkari Institute! Any work they have for her takes precedent," he said, adjusting his lapels.

That was more than a little confusing.

If Hunk heard all of that right, it meant that their mission— _the_ most important mission, their once-in-a-lifetime ticket of golden proportions—came _after_ regular job stuff that she could probably do at any other point in her life. They'd literally beat out thousands of other people to get to this point and make the crew. This mission was her life. Her way to figure out what happened to her family. Wouldn't that come first for her?

Lance seemed to be thinking along relatively the same lines as him as he frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"'Takes precedent'? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

Hunk raised a hand. "Yeah man, I'm with Lance on this one. Isn't this mission like...a super-big deal to you guys? It's a pretty big deal for us. Right?"

"Well...yes," Coran admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "But I'm afraid it can't quite be helped. Altea's rather dependent on her involvement at this point and time and unfortunately for us in this case, she's an Olkarion citizen. There's very little we can do about the way of it."

He let out a sigh and hung his shoulders, but it was brief and he straightened almost immediately. "But: good news! Pidge should be joining us on the return flight home once they get things all sorted out between them. We'll see her in time for check-in!"

That seemed to pacify Lance for the moment, even if he didn't look happy about it. Hunk didn't either of them knew enough about Olkarion society to argue. Coran's explanation seemed enough for the time being and he watched as Lance let out a sigh of defeat.

Finally, he pulled out his chair and sunk into the seat, limbs hanging like limp noodles over the armrests. Hunk lay a hand on his shoulder and offered him a faint smile.

"Don't sweat it too much. Also, try not to screw it up when we see her later, or next time I'm gonna be the one ticked off at you. I still can't believe you guys didn't make up even after you ditched me. Seriously."

"Huuuunk," Lance moaned, clearly miserable. Hunk told himself he only reveled in it a little.

"It needed saying," he shrugged, nonplussed. "For real though, don't wait. Just do it when we see her on the plane later, get it out of the way. Okay?"

"Yeah buddy. I will."

There was an air of defeat about him that made Hunk feel just a little bit bad, because clearly Lance was trying. If he'd skipped his morning routine in order to find Pidge and apologize...well, that was pretty big deal as far as Lance went. Skincare came second only to people he cared about. And diving. But mostly the first one.

He knew Lance felt bad. Pretty much everyone who saw the three of them in the same room together did. Lance wasn't exactly subtle about the glances he'd steal Pidge's way, and neither was the way she'd make a point of ignoring him in return.

The guy wasn't in 'kicked puppy'-looking territory yet, but it was only a matter of time.

But everything would work itself out when they all got together at the airport and flew back to Karthulia, he told himself. It would be fine.

That was the idea, anyway. Things didn't exactly go as planned.

Not only did Pidge not meet them at the airport in time for check-in, word that she wouldn't be showing up at all didn't reach them until it was time to board. Lance had been pacing restlessly and running hands through his hair nearly the whole time.

The best Coran could offer was that the business the Olkari had with her was "quite important, apparently." What exactly that business _was_ wasn't very clear, but it had something to do with aberrant results in a series of sonar scans. Pidge had written the program used to make them, which didn't surprise Hunk one bit. Just a week with her and he was convinced that she totally outclassed at least ninety-nine percent of the people in her field.

He doubted relaying that information would do anything to help Lance calm down though so Hunk kept it to himself and just shrugged.

"You'll get her next time, man. Don't worry."

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, 'next time' wasn't about to be anytime soon.

When he and Lance turned up bright and early the next day for mission briefing, only Coran and Iverson were in attendance. Pidge's usual seat near the front was conspicuously absent, and when Lance asked if she was back yet all they received was an apologetic shrug from Coran.

The issue they'd uncovered still wasn't fixed yet, and at the present time he didn't have an ETA on her return. It could be tomorrow, it could be several days; it would all depended on how quickly they figured the problem it out. Until then they'd just have to continue without her as far as the mission was concerned.

And while Hunk did agree on a technical level, he also had some reservations.

Reservations Lance shared and voiced several days later when the two of them found themselves in the Garrison's fitness center. How Lance found the energy, let alone the air, to both jog and complain at the same time was beyond Hunk. He could barely speak without wheezing even at his own, much more modest pace.

It made sense though; Lance needed to be in absurdly good shape to do the sort of pressure training those crazy-deep dives of his required. Something about nitrogen gas being more soluble in fat than water meant he needed a near-athlete level of physical fitness.

And water. Lots, and lots of water.

Just looking at the amount Lance drank during a workout made Hunk feel like he had to pee.

"I'm just saying," Lance said, arms breaking their steady cadence to gesture animatedly. "She needs to be here! Of course I wanna say I'm sorry and everything but all this isn't just for fun, you know?"

"Uh...huh," Hunk wheezed, knowing Lance would just keep going. He didn't bother trying to keep up and merely listened.

"The training is important! You gotta get used to being in a cramped space together, it's not like we're going to have a ton of room to move around in there. You need to know how to navigate it!"

And listened.

"It's not just the PT that's important either, is the thing." Two days later. Lance was stretching his arms out in front of him, folding nearly in half in order to stretch and touch his toes.

"We're going to be crampy and cold and sore way before we even reach the midway point. And that's assuming nothing goes wrong." Hunk felt his stomach clench and churn queasily, complexion turning green at the thought. "Which it won't, because I'm amazing and all that. But we still need to be prepared for that kind of stuff."

"Lance, please," he wheezed, no longer able to keep his eyes on the fine circuitry in front of him. "I love you man, but if you keep saying stuff like that I'm gonna hurl. It's bad enough already that we're going to be shooting towards almost certain death down there, I don't need to be reminded about all the stuff that could go wrong along the way!"

"Well tough beans, Hunk. Because that's what we're gonna do if we want to be ready for this mission! We gotta be prepared for like, fires and junk."

" _Fires?_ We're going to be underwater!"

Lance rolled his eyes. "I meant in the _cabin_. Duh?"

"...Oh. Right, heh."

But Lance didn't stop there.

He seemed determined to list of each and every way things could go wrong in his frustration as Pidge continually failed to show up for the exercises, drills, and briefings meant to keep them up-to-date and as prepped and ready as possible for launch day.

Hunk was beginning to look forward to the time-consuming and tedious hours he'd need to spend pouring over and testing each piece of equipment on board the _Derceto_.

He loved Lance, but the guy was going to kill him with stress before they even set foot off land at this rate. Did people get ulcers from stress? Was that a thing? From nausea? Because he'd lost track of the number of times he'd puked over the last week and a half.

Particularly memorable instances included trouncing Coran's salad from across the table at dinner one night, and vomiting into the open mouth of a training dummy during CPR practice.

So yeah. Hunk loved him, but.

 

* * *

 

**HUNK:**

Please tell me you're coming back soon

I don't know how much longer I can hold out

 

**PIDGE:**

What's wrong? Did something happen?

Hunk?

Hunk if you don't reply I am calling Coran

 

**HUNK:**

What?

Sorry

My stomach's been queasy ever since breakfast

I'm talking two-foot projectile vomiting here

 

**PIDGE:**

First off: gross.

Second: did you seriously text me to tell me you've got food poisoning?

 

**HUNK:**

Food poisoning? Why would I have that? The food's amazing here

Okay no it's not I lied

It's not amazing but I've never gotten sick or anything from it

I am convinced the cafeteria lady hides the good stuff though.

 

**PIDGE:**

So the flu.

 

**HUNK:**

Worse

Lance

 

**PIDGE:**

..............

 

**HUNK:**

In hindsight that was poorly phrased

But seriously Pidge when are you coming back

If Lance goes into detail on dental fillings literally exploding inside a person's mouth from pressure underwater one more time...

I don't think my gastrointestinal tract can take it

I have thrown up so many times

So many times, Pidge

 

**PIDGE:**

I fail to see how my coming back to the Garrison would have any effect on Lance being Lance.

 

**HUNK:**

Come on Pidge you're a certifiable genius at this stage you know what I'm talking about

He's stressed out because he's worried about you

He wants to say sorry

 

**PIDGE:**

That's funny, considering he's never actually done it

 

**HUNK:**

Have you given him the chance to though? Really?

 

**PIDGE:**

...I don't want to talk to him

 

**HUNK:**

So that's still a no then. I thought you were going to try?

 

**PIDGE:**

I did okay? I did. At the party. I thought we were going to talk but he just turned around and started flirting with some woman that showed up!

 

**HUNK:**

Some woman?

 

**PIDGE:**

I believe his exact words were "for you, I'd be anyone baby"

 

**HUNK:**

Uuuggghhh

Okay so it's no secret that Lance can be an idiot sometimes

 

**PIDGE:**

I'm shocked

 

**HUNK:**

But he's really beating himself (and by extension me) up over this

I'm not saying you HAVE to come back and listen to him but if you don't I am going to die and someone else is going to wind up going on this mission with you

Speaking of dying did you know that so far you've missed three mission briefings, two equipment checks and like five hours of safety drills?

Just listing a few off the top of my head but at least all of those are totally mandatory to getting this thing up off the ground

 

**PIDGE:**

Yeah I know

It's dumb. I'm sorry. If I could be there I would okay?

If it helps Coran's been giving me updates twice a day so I should be up to speed by Thursday

 

**HUNK:**

Thursday as in two days from now? That Thursday? The actual final day before we start the test diving? Or last Thursday when you were also supposedly going to be here to save me

 

**PIDGE:**

THIS Thursday Hunk :P

Geez.

I really am sorry though

For not being around I mean

I know this mission is important. I'll be ready.

And I will be there on Thursday

 

**HUNK:**

Promise?

 

**PIDGE:**

Promise.

 

**HUNK:**

...Hey Pidge?

How are you, really. Are you okay?

Lance stuff aside

(01101000 01100101 01101100 01110000)

(01101101 01100101)

 

**PIDGE:**

It's cute that you think using binary will win me over

There are so many other elegant, more practical programming languages you could've used

 

**HUNK:**

I used a translator okay I'm an engineer, not a programmer

That's you and we need you ):

 

**PIDGE:**

Yeah yeah

I'm doing okay though Hunk!

Really.

We've almost got this bug sorted out and then I'll be there to ignore Lance in person :)

 

**HUNK:**

THANK YOU

Sorry that was autocorrect

But seriously THANK YOU

 

**PIDGE:**

No problem. Hope your stomach makes it :)

 

* * *

 

Everything was going fine.

And then it wasn't.

" _Mayday, mayday, mayday!_ This is the RSV _Castleship_ , hailing all available vessels! I repeat, this is the RSV _Castleship_ ; _mayday, mayday, mayday_!" Hunk's voice rang out, panicked and frantic as he yelled into the walkie-talkie at his mouth.

Before him hung the _Derceto_ vessel, neon green and suspended upright with the aid of numerous pulleys and straps to keep it from swaying wildly; emergency teams on all sides were rushing to lower it down onto the mount affixed to the ship's deck and it only took a moment before it locked into place with a heavy _KA-CHUNK_.

"Vessel calling mayday, vessel in distress this is RSV _Alfor_ , requesting your nature of distress. Over," a voice crackled back over the radio.

First responders were already keying in the release codes to unseal the reinforced hatch that protected—not trapped, Hunk reminded himself—the single occupant of the submersible:

_Lance._

"Y-yeah, uh—I mean! This is an emergency! _Derceto_ crew member is non-responsive, I repeat: non-responsive. Contact with DSV operator lost five minutes, thirty-three seconds ago! Requesting LSTs, I repeat Life Support Technicians aboard the RSV _Castleship_. First responders are in position, o-over!"

And they were. They were a well-oiled machine, efficient and lightning-fast; a stretcher was already in place at its base. Without missing a single beat, they hoisted Lance's unmoving body from within the _Derceto_ and lowered him onto it.

An EMT was on him immediately to check his pulse and vitals.

Hunk was distantly aware when they reported there was no sign of a pulse; Lance wasn't breathing. Then a resuscitator was being placed over Lance's mouth and the EMT started to push pump after pump of fresh air into his lungs, trying to bring him back.

_One._

Lance's chest rose as it was filled with air.

 _Two_.

The EMT relaxed their grip and it sunk again as his body forced the air back out. He remained deathly still.

_Three._

Again.

_Four—_

"Aaaand _time!_ " Coran's voice echoed out over the room's loudspeakers, and everyone came to an abrupt and sudden halt.

Lance's eyes blinked open.

"Rescue and resuscitation attempts completed in twenty-six-point-five seconds!" Coran reported, voice filled with vigor. "A far cry better from yesterday's attempts, but we want to see that number in the low-twenties! Our current projection puts our pilot here at a sixty-five percent survival rate. We want to bump those numbers up as high as we can before sea trials tomorrow!"

The emergency lights overhead flashed red and rotated, signaling the crew to begin resetting the drill from the beginning. Hunk let the hand holding his radio drop with a groan, heart beating a mile a minute as Lance sat himself up and yanked off his mask. He didn't look the least bit bothered as he made his way over, and Hunk envied him for it.

"Hey man, good job! You totally almost didn't stutter your S.O.S this time," he said with a grin, and the look was as roguish as it was sincere. He was trying to lighten the mood. Hunk appreciated the effort.

"I _hate_ that drill! I always forget how many mayday's it's supposed to be. Why can't we just use one?" He hung his head and exhaled deeply, latching the radio back into place and wiping his palms off onto his shirt. "Can we change places yet? I want to be the guy that lies there and does nothing while he's being saved."

"No way, I just spent an hour talking into that mic. It smells like old pennies! It's your turn. Besides, you heard the man. Sea trials start tomorrow, buddy. If I can't count on Pidge to have my back then you at least better know how to save us."

Lance had a look of nonchalance on his face when he spoke that Hunk knew and recognized. It was the one he wore whenever he was trying to downplay or act cool about something that bothered him. Hunk had seen him wear it during finals in their first year together at the Garrison, after he'd asked Amy Harris to the prom in senior year and been rejected, and now, whenever he mentioned Pidge.

"She'll turn up, man. We just need to wait a little." Hunk rubbed the back of his neck and offered him what he hoped was a reassuring look. Because honestly? At this point he was starting to worry too.

It _was_ Thursday and Pidge _had_ been confirmed as boarded on her flight headed their way, but she wasn't due until the afternoon. Adding to that the distance between the airport and the Aquanautics Garrison, and it would be early evening before she arrived. It didn't give them a lot of time to run through the important, and quite frankly _totally essential_ drills that they all needed to be familiar with before launch. Pidge was cutting it pretty darn close to the wire.

Lance would be ready for the start of test dives tomorrow. Hunk himself would...probably. It helped that he didn't actually have to go down in the first launch. He got to stay topside to check the relays and responses from all the equipment for errors so they could log and fix them. The only ones who actually had to get into the submersible during sea trials were Lance and Pidge.

Lance had been coached to death on the very specific tasks he needed to perform at varying depths to ensure that the _Derceto_ was properly functioning and knew them all by heart.

But Pidge still hadn't been by for a single test, and as much as he tried to reassure Lance, Hunk was starting to worry too.

Not just because of the safety measures, but because it would mean that the two of them would be stuffed into a small, cramped vessel with no way out and no hope of avoiding each other as they sank into a watery abyss where a single misstep could get them killed.

Even worse, the two of them could completely fail to make up at all and then he'd have to deal with it for the next _year_ , forced to triage their motley crew until it drove him insane.

Hunk shuddered.

He really, really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

At least by the end of the day they managed to reduce their time to twenty-three seconds. Coran was satisfied enough that he was letting them go in time for dinner, and Lance wasted no time in letting everyone know how relieved he was to hear it by giving a loud, obnoxious sigh.

"Glad that's over," he said. "Meet you at the cafeteria?"

Hunk nodded. "Just gotta drop off this gear in my office first and then I'll be right down."

"Cool. See you in a bit then." Lance gave him one last wave that Hunk briefly returned before gathering up the last of his notes and equipment, cradling it carefully in his arms as he made his way back to the engineering labs.

Hunk went from tired and smiling to stone-faced in the blink of an eye as he rounded the corner and saw something at the end of the corridor that made him stop dead in his tracks:

A door at the far end of the hall, left hanging open.

But not just any door. That was _his_ door, the one that let into his office. Which was made infinitely more spooky by the fact that the hallway lights had been dimmed for evening hours and kept flickering every couple of seconds.

That door should've been closed. Hunk could remember leaving it that way when he left for drills that morning. No one should've been in there. The light spilling out into the hall from inside said otherwise.

Hunk shuddered.

Pushing most of his gear into one arm, he gulped and moved forward slowly as he ran through the list of people who access to his office. There weren't many. Maybe four or five at most, all of which were either not on base or headed to the mess hall. Heck, the janitors couldn't even get in without being buzzed through first. So how...?

Hunk crept closer and closer, curling his fingers around the doorway as he tried to steady himself. This was fine. He could do this. Probably wasn't even anything! And if it was, he could always call security if he really needed to.

Oh god, what if he did? What if it was a ghost? Or a spy? A super-secret...diving technology...spy. That would be the _worst_ , there were so many other, better technologies to steal out there! Like Alt-Tech's particle barrier, or cryo-rejuvenation, or—

"...Pidge??"

Or Pidge. It could also just be Pidge, that was fine.

He must've blurted that out louder than he thought because she near-well jumped out of her chair, eyes wide behind her glasses and arms held up like she'd touched something hot. He would've felt bad for scaring her if he wasn't so relieved to see her.

"Hunk?!"

He didn't wait for her to get her bearings. Hunk just dropped all the gear in his arms and rushed forward to sweep her up into a powerful hug.

"You're back! Oh man, I've missed you—Why didn't you say anything? When did you get in?" His mouth was moving a mile a minute; she offered him an awkward smile and angled one hand to pat his side, which only made him all the gladder for her return. When he set her down though she wheezed, which meant he'd probably been squeezing her just a bit too tightly there. Whoops.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly.

"It's fine," Pidge assured him, shaking her head. She took a moment to adjust her glasses from where they'd half-fallen off her face. "My phone died on the plane ride over so I wasn't able to give you a head's up."

"Ohh...that's cool. Or you know, whatever." Hunk grinned. "I'm just glad you made it! Everyone's going to be so relieved to see you. Pretty sure half of them thought you weren't going to turn up."

When he nudged her with his elbow he was relieved to see a cocky smile return to her lips as she scoffed, jabbing him right back. "And miss even _more_ of this mission than I already have? In your dreams, Hunk. I'm all in now."

"Ohthankgoodness." He wheezed all at once. "Because, man, the tension around here has been getting _real_. Coran said he'd have a big meeting with everyone when you showed up," he began, enthusiasm faltering as his own words washed over him.

That's right. Pidge was supposed to go see Coran when she first checked in. What was she doing in his office? Hunk obviously hadn't been there.

"Uhh...so why _are_ you in here? Shouldn't you be reporting in and getting caught up and stuff?" He looked past Pidge to the table she'd been seated at, her laptop plugged in and powered up. She followed his gaze and turned back to him, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Yeah—yes, I know. I am, kind of." She spoke quickly, moving over to her laptop and hastily typing something into the command line open on it. "I had to tweak a few things real quick. You know that issue I had to deal with for the Olkari? Well, it turns out that the Garrison's sonar tech uses the same protocols as the program I wrote. I wanted to do a couple of quick hotfixes before we launched to avoid any issues with the bug they found."

Hunk blinked. "Yikes, was it that bad? I mean, I know it kept you busy there for like, ever and all that, but it's not serious is it?"

"It won't have any negative impact on the mission," she assured him quickly. The knowing and wry quirk of her lips told him she was _well_ aware of his numerous concerns and fears. Especially seeing as how he'd made sure to convey them to her at great length every opportunity. "It's for the sonar imaging system the _Derceto_ uses. It won't affect our navigation or anything like that."

Hunk let his shoulders sag in exaggerated relief. "Tell me again why _that_ was so important you had to leave me here—alone—with Lance for nearly _two weeks_?"

She shrugged. "Scientists and researchers are civil servants in Olkarion. They call, we answer. Like going to work, only for thousands of bosses instead of just a few."

"That sounds _awful_." He made a face.

"It's really not. And anyway, I didn't spend all my time there fixing bugs. I got a _ton_ of work on our ROVs' framework done. Those little guys are gonna be powerhouses in the water tomorrow. I think I even fixed that runtime error you were having with them before I left," she said proudly. Hunk could've cried with joy.

Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder that trembled with emotion. He sniffed.

"I missed you, Pidge."

She smirked. "I figured."

 

* * *

 

Lance missed her too.

As in, he literally missed her.

They were already starting to load everything onto the support vessel _Castleship_ when he showed up (almost) on time at six-thirty A.M. sharp and found her just...standing there, right next to Hunk at roll call. Like she'd never been gone in the first place.

Lance's brain near-well shorted out as she turned to look at him, actually _look_ at him, not just disregard or ignore. He couldn't believe it.

He tried to speak but no words came out, mouth opening and closing uselessly. This was his _chance_ to finally say something, to at least say _hi_ , and here he was gaping like some sort of fish.

Their eyes met.

Pidge stared at him for a long moment like she didn't know what to make of him. He stared back.

Her nose wrinkled. Lance pointed at her with one quaking finger, his face aghast.

She made a face as if she'd swallowed something unpleasant and squinted.

"G—g'mornin'! Guys. Hunk. Uh...Pidge," he managed out, one hand lifted halfway in greeting.

Pidge's expression didn't change, but Hunk gave him a friendly wave and...well, he supposed that was progress. She wasn't trying to leave or anything. In fact, now that he thought about it, her line of sight was a little off; just over the top of one shoulder, like she was watching something el—

"McClain!"

Lance shrieked and jumped a foot in the air.

It was not his proudest moment to realize that Iverson had been standing behind him the entire time and he hadn't noticed.

"S-sir, good morning sir!" he said, whirling around quickly and standing ramrod straight. The salute he gave was shoddy at best and did very little to lessen the level stare the man was sending him, so with a quick cough to clear his throat Lance hurried to fall in line beside...Pidge.

He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye but her gaze was fixed firmly ahead. And with a sinking feeling in his gut, Lance realized that she'd probably been staring at Iverson the entire time during that exchange. Not him. Awesome.

He sighed but tried not to feel discouraged. There was going to be plenty of time to talk to Pidge; they were about to spend the next two weeks together in close quarters, after all. He just needed to be patient.

No matter how much doing that utterly sucked.

"Alright cadets! Or should I say...reluctantly, _crew_ ," Iverson began, giving each of them a look in turn. "Today marks the first of four sea trials we intend to run before the official launch of your mission! You've all been briefed on what you need to do once we embark. I expect each of you to perform your duties to the utmost without delay. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" they replied in perfect unison, stiff. Hunk, he knew, would probably be a mess of nerves since he tended to get seasick, but when he risked another glance in Pidge's direction, Lance was surprised to find that she seemed a little on edge as well. For once, it didn't look like the tension in her shoulders had anything to do with him.

He didn't have time to wonder why before Iverson was barking out a quick, "Then hop to it!" and they were all off, hurrying to board the _Castleship_.

It was a large, red beast of a ship that easily dwarfed the _Derceto_ currently installed and mounted on its ship cradle mid-deck. It ran at least one and a half football fields lengthwise, and was wide enough to comfortably fit two city buses parked end-to-end.

So yeah. _Big_.

And Lance knew it like the back of his hand.

He'd only ever been out to sea on it once or twice before, but while it had been parked in the Garrison's shipyard he'd traversed its layout extensively, familiarizing himself with the vessel and the support crew who'd be running it while they dropped down into the Trench.

The layout had changed quite a bit since then as they'd set up workstations and reassigned the cargo and equipment space, but it was more or less what he'd come to know and Lance felt confident as he made his way into the hold. Lodgings wouldn't have changed much; the single-occupancy quarters where exactly where he left them and he dropped off his duffel bag before heading straight down to the lower deck where everyone would be gathering in the common room for briefing.

When he arrived, Coran walked them through it even though they'd been over things what felt like a million times by that point.

It was pretty simple: on day one they'd hover closer to shore to run first of their tests. They'd go through each of the _Derceto_ 's systems one by one to check for any errors or malfunctioning bits of equipment. Once the bugs and kinks got worked out, they'd progress to deeper waters and take the _Derceto_ down into the nearby sub-marine Karthulian Canyon to see how it all handled in high pressure.

The Karthulian Canyon wasn't anywhere near as deep as the Kraydah at only 7,800 meters deep, but it was perfect for a trial run of the _Derceto's_ capabilities in conditions similar to what they hoped to achieve when they dove to the Komar station. All that was left to do now was to prepare.

By the time Coran dismissed them and they started to clear out Lance could already feel the telltale hum of the engines running through the ship. It rolled slowly, and two seconds later Hunk was retching into a nearby trashcan.

Yep. Definitely underway.

At least Lance's tasks aboard the ship were rather simple compared to most people on board; he really only needed to make sure that the operations vehicles and equipment were prepped and ready for loading. They were going to stock the dive just like they would for the Kraydah launch to test how the _Derceto_ handled at full capacity, which that meant assembling and packing _everything_ into its hull.

It was long, grueling work because of how heavy the gear was overall. Some things, like the ROV they were bringing, weighed far too much to be lifted by hand and needed a mobile crane to attach it properly to the rig waiting at the top. Less cumbersome items such as spare battery packs, pressure suits, and lab equipment could be carried and stowed in several long, exhausting trips.

The fact that it was only a test dive meant that they didn't need to set up and configure most of what they loaded, which was a relief; an hour of lugging around heavy objects and Lance's shirt was soaked through with sweat. He was more than ready for a break.

He was wiping his brow when he walked past an open doorway and suddenly came to a grinding halt. It wasn't anything conspicuous; it was one of many which led to the numerous, compact labs settled in the belly of the ship.

But this particular door housed to something unmistakably familiar: a mop of messy brown hair.

Pidge.

Lance's heart all but leapt into his throat as he stared at the back of her head like a deer caught in headlights. She hadn't noticed him yet. Lance swallowed, and after a moment allowed himself to slowly step forward into the room.

The whole area was a mess of various pieces of gear, all arranged in no particular order. It half-looked like she'd just dumped stuff wherever there was space. Dozens of cables protruded from the sides of intricate machinery, cascading down over the edge of the tables and benches it laid upon. Some of it he could recognize as machines meant for recording sound; the rest he couldn't make heads or tails of.

He was careful when he began making his way forward through the mess of equipment, stepping over and weaving around the worst of it. At one point he had to hop to actually make it to the clearing. He grunted with the effort, and then nearly yelped when he looked up to find Pidge, staring a look of surprise on her face.

"Uhh..." he began, intelligently.

No, wait, shoot—

Lance straightened and cleared his throat loudly. Her widened eyes followed him, but when she made move to open her mouth he quickly shoved both hands in front of himself to stop her. "Wait! Waitwait, just—hold up a sec okay? Let me just...do this."

He took a deep breath to steel himself and slowly let it out.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "For before, back at the Garrison. When I said that the whole _Kerberos_ mission was your dad's fault... I didn't know. Or I did, but I didn't _know_ , you know? I only knew what I'd seen on TV and I didn't think before I opened my big mouth."

His heart was beating a mile a minute. Pidge continued to stare. "It was really, really stupid of me and I'm sorry. That was your brother and your dad and I..." His shoulders slumped. Lance looked at the floor. "I screwed up, Pidge. I shouldn't have said any of that. I'm sorry."

The room was deathly silent in the wake of his apology. It felt like some of the great weight he'd been carrying around on his shoulders the past two weeks had lifted, but instead of feeling relieved, his nerves were all over the place.

Pidge wasn't saying anything, why wasn't she saying anything? Was she still mad?

Lance swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he lifted his head to look at her, heart pounding in his ears.

She was looking at him with an unreadable expression. He couldn't tell if she was surprised or confused or upset as she slowly raised her hands on either side of her head and pulled off the large headset she'd been wearing.

Lance's jaw dropped. Oh, _no_.

"Oh come on...!" he screeched, and this time Pidge actually did startle in her seat. "Are you kidding me?! This whole time you were—you didn't...?!"

"Would you stop yelling?" she snapped, bristling. "What are you even doing here? This is my lab!"

"I... I poured my heart and soul out to you just now! You're telling me you didn't hear any of that?!" Lance threw his arms open wide for emphasis.

"What I _heard_ was you screaming," she said. "And if you're going to keep doing that you can take it somewhere else, I'm busy."

"Busy?!"

"Yes, Lance!" Pidge said, exasperated and frowning. "We launch in just over three hours and I haven't even finished updating the rest of my—"

Something on the screen to the left of Pidge's shoulder flickered and drew Lance's attention.

"Wait, are you watching a video?" He cut her off, trying to peer around her with a squint. Pidge's glasses all but slipped off her nose as she quickly whirled around to try and minimize the window, and Lance caught just enough of it to see a man with dark hair facing forward, like he was addressing the camera. He was wearing a Garrison uniform.

"Is that _Shiro_? Shiro Takashi—from the _Kerberos_ mission?" Lance's eyes brightened and he tried to step forward but Pidge quickly blocked him off and pushed both hands into his chest.

"No!"

"It totally is, holy cow. Is that from the actual mission?" he asked. "How the heck do you even have access to that stuff? It's totally classified!"

" _Lance_!" Pidge slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up and push him back again, eyes quickly darting back and forth. She looked decidedly _not happy_ with him. "Would you shut up already? It's not whatever you think it is, now get _out_ —"

She was shoving again and Lance tried to resist it by leaning forward to get a better look. There was no way that wasn't Shiro, Lance was certain of it. He'd recognize that face anywhere after all the years he'd spent looking up to the guy.

"Just wait a minute, lemme see!"

"Lance—!"

He went to weave in around her, but Pidge chose that exact moment to really throw her weight into him. It was all it took to throw him off-balance.

His leg lifted reflexively, trying to take a step and steady himself, but there was nowhere to go.

Lance had just enough time to think, _this is probably really gonna suck_ , and then they hit the floor. Hard. The resulting crash they made as they toppled over and into a precariously-stacked pile of gear could be heard all the way down the hall.

 

* * *

 

"This is DSV _Derceto_ reporting in for pre-launch comms check, do you copy?"

"Copy that, we're reading you loud and clear on this end! Looks like we finally got that wiring issue fixed, so that's good. How's your noggin holding up? This is Hunk, by the way."

Lance let his head drop back against his headrest and immediately regretted it when a flit of pain shot through the base of his skull. He'd very much been trying _not_ to think about the unpleasant throbbing that still made itself known even though nearly a week had passed.

Surprising no one, it turned out that having forty pounds of solid machinery land on you did not in fact improve a fall. It made it infinitely worse, even when shared between two people. Pidge had come out of the incident with a series of her own painful lumps and it was yet another item to add to the pile of things she wasn't forgiving him for, yet.

He sighed. "I know it's you Hunk, I can still see you through the porthole."

"Oh. Yeah, right. Of course. I was just saying, since we're still doing the check-in thing. We are, right? That's what we've been doing during practice."

"Yes, Hunk."

"Okay cool."

Lance wasn't sure if it was lucky or not that the only thing to incur any lasting damage from the incident was his ego. Because it sure _felt_ like his bruises were permanent. They made each and every sea trial he'd performed a literal pain, and not just because of the numerous issues they'd already encountered.

The comms system had failed during their first run and nothing went through, so they'd called it almost immediately. Then the altimeter hadn't been showing depth after a drop of only thirty meters. A camera was found to be wired in backwards.

Hunk and the rest of the engineers on board had been working non-stop to fix the issues, and at this point Lance was fairly certain there was more coffee in Hunk's body than actual blood.

But it had paid off.

The crew managed to turn four solid days of bad news around at the last minute and their third attempt to test the _Derceto_ provided them with a good, solid dive of 120 meters. All systems had checked out with zero hiccups.

They were finally cleared for depth trials.

Lance watched as Hunk flashed him a thumb's up from the control tower window, a wry smile curving his lips as he turned his attention back on the monitors in front of him.

"Beginning pre-launch sequence now."

He sat back in his seat and turned his attention to the overhead set of switches and began flipping each of them in sequence until three straight lines of red lights formed a mosaic above his head. One by one the _Derceto's_ systems booted up. The screen closest to him flickered to life and began its start-up display, text flashing across the screen.

Readouts began as soon as the UI had fully loaded, and Lance spared it a quick glance before making sure the harness keeping him in his seat was fastened before calling over his shoulder.

"You strapped in back there?"

Silence.

Lance bit back a sound of exasperation. _Of course_ she wasn't going to make this easy. Why had he dared to dream any different?

" _Pidge_. Are you strapped in? Hellooo? Moon base to Holt, come in Ho—"

"I can hear you," a grumble cut in from behind. Pidge sounded reluctant. Lance could just imagine the glower she was most likely sending his way.

"Well then answer okay? It's go time!"

He wasn't mad at her, exactly. He really wasn't. Maybe a little impatient, but he told himself that it was mostly caused by her reluctance to act like an actual crew and not because he was still sore that his apology had fallen flat.

This was their second dive together and he was going to be professional about this, even if getting her to speak to him in anything more than monosyllables was like pulling teeth.

At least he could be certain that she heard everything, he thought. Her headset was plugged directly into the ship's systems to process the sonar readings, and that meant that any and all radio communications went through as well.

No way she'd be able to pretend she couldn't hear him now.

Lance heard her mutter under her breath from somewhere to his left and resisted the urge to purse his lips. If she wanted to sulk about being down here with him, that was fine. He would rock this mission either way.

"Alright, all strapped in and ready to go. Sealing hatch doors now," he said. Lance flipped two more switches closer to him and listened as the large door beneath them sealed with a loud hiss of air. Hydraulic seals whirred into place and locked, trapping them inside with a mechanical click.

"Final comms check! Still with us guys?" Hunk's voice came in through the overhead speakers and Lance nodded even though technically Hunk probably wouldn't be able to see.

"Yup, reading you just fine. We're prepped and ready for descent."

"Copy that. Preparing for launch, so...you know. Make sure you hold on. Sea state's pretty even right now but we've got a bit of wind coming in front the south-west."

"Roger. Got my barf bag ready and everything," he grinned, and he swore he could hear the roll Hunk's eyes gave when his voice crackled back in a moment later.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious. Over and out."

Lance was grinning as he settled back in his seat and made sure he had a firm grip on the shoulder straps of his harness. It lasted even as he craned in his seat to look back at where Pidge sat at a terminal perpendicular to his own, already typing things into the terminal in front of her. Oh boy would that be a major mistake in a couple of seconds here.

He decided that giving her a fair warning was the least he could do.

"Seriously though, you'll want to hold on. This thing can sway pretty bad once when they get it in the air. You're probably going to wish we actually had barf bags in here in a sec."

Pidge shot him a sidelong look and Lance couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a glare or not. It looked a little judgmental. He was definitely feeling judged.

"...Fine," was all she said, pulling her hands back from the keyboard. And not a moment too soon; the cabin suddenly gave a short lurch and they lost all feeling of being stationary or grounded.

Pidge let out a sound of alarm and latched onto her armrests quickly, forcing Lance to hold back a smug _I told you so_. Because he was a gentleman like that.

Instead he turned back around in his seat to face forward and steadied himself as the _Derceto_ first swayed very slowly to the left, then the right. He could hear Pidge grunt uncomfortably as they started to even out. Hunk's voice cut in a moment later.

"Okay guys, we're ready to lower you in. Brace for impact."

"Copy that, bracing now!"

Lance's grin had yet to leave his face and now his heart was starting to thrum with excitement too. He could feel it thumping in his chest like a jackhammer, knocking against his ribs and filling his limbs with adrenaline. This was the part he absolutely lived for: the moment when gravity gave way for just a split second, where it felt like they were free falling into a void of open air.

In reality, Lance could see the water through the porthole and knew that they only hung a foot or two from the water's surface. But his stomach still leapt as they dropped and came down hard in the water less than a second later.

The whole submersible reeled as it connected, but the large buoys strapped to its sides helped to keep it afloat and within a few moments it had stabilized itself comfortably. The only motion now was a gentle rocking, back and forth; barely noticeable.

...Mostly.

Lance could hear Pidge groaning unhappily and it did nothing to smother the look of excitement on his face as he grabbed the yoke and tapped a button on his HUD.

"Aaand touchdown, we are in the water! So far everything looks good in here," he hummed. "CO2 levels look good, hull integrity is good, life support is good. All systems are green across the board here. How're things up there? Over."

"Nice and clear," Hunk replied. "We're reading you in real-time and everything looks good. You're good to go, man."

" _Finally_." Lance's eyes were gleaming now as he looked down, down, _down_ into the thick expanse of blue just waiting for them below. "Surface, be advised we are ready to proceed and are starting our descent in three, two—"

"You don't actually have to count that out you know," Pidge retorted dryly. Lance ignored her and flicked the cap off the switch in front of his thumb. He pressed it.

"—One! Release, release!"

Like clockwork, both buoys disconnected from the sides of the _Derceto_ and broke away with snap. Now there was nothing to keep them keeping them from sinking, and gravity took hold, beginning their descent and dragging them downward.

All around them the water was brilliantly blue. It stretched for miles in every direction but Lance was only interested in _down_. He could barely see further than twenty meters before the water took on a murky quality and visibility became limited, but it did nothing to quell the excitement building inside his chest.

Twenty meters would be nothing compared to the distance they were going to cover today.

"Alriiiight, now _this_ is more like it. Surface this is _Derceto_ vessel, clocking in at a steady one-point-eight knots. We're just passing the thirty-meter mark...now! Over," he said.

"Copy that. Everything's still green on our end. Current ETA to the bottom is roughly two hours, twenty minutes." Hunk's voice came in clear through the speakers.

"Got it." Lance reached up to anchor the digital timer on his HUD. "Gonna start running through that mission itinerary now. Looks like core temperature's almost where we want it. Running a bit hot, just like yours truly."

Behind him, Pidge made a sound of exasperation. He ignored her.

It took less than five minutes before the water around them started to grow dim as they left the photic zone of the ocean. Darkness closed in around them like a shroud. Lance looked up to watch as the faint glimmer of the surface grew farther and farther away. He could just barely make out the black blob he knew to be the _Castleship's_ hull, and within moments that too, vanished. Only then did he reached up to turn on the submersible's flood lights, illuminating the water around them.

As they continued their way down Lance ran through each item listed on their docket. It wasn't terribly eventful, reporting back the readings he was getting off of his various gauges and monitors. Most of what they were worried about was technical rather than structural, especially after their previous dives.

The _Derceto's_ hull had been tested extensively in the Garrison pressure chambers numerous times before departure. Nothing short of 21,000 psi was going to do more than comfortably squeeze it. Today, they'd barely scratch even half that.

"You holding up okay back there, Pidge?" When no answer came Lance looked back over his shoulder and found her hunched over her keyboard, frowning and furiously typing away at something. Utterly engrossed.

He took an exasperated breath and tried again.

" _Pidge_."

A noncommittal noise. His eye twitched.

"Are you okay back there?"

"Mm."

"Are you actually listening to me right now?"

"Mm."

Lance was going to lose his mind.

"Pidge, seriously! You're supposed to confirm stuff with words down here, you can't just go ' _mhmm_ ' to everything. This isn't a game!" he said. Irritation was beginning to rise up under his skin, making him feel uncomfortably warm. He was just about to reach over and unbuckle himself when she finally replied,

"Could've fooled me."

She didn't sound the least bit sorry. If anything, she was distant and distracted, neither of which were good things when she was supposed to be his partner down here. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing it had been Hunk to come down with him instead.

"Come on, Pidge! I need to you give verbal confirmation here okay? Stop what you're doing for one second and just tell me you're good so we can keep checking off our list! Whatever it is can't be that important if it's not on our itinerary."

Finally, she turned to look at him with a scowl, glasses hanging low on her nose, and made a point of pulling her headset down to her neck. Just like in the control room before, but this time he knew for a fact she was listening.

" _Fine_. I'm _fine_ , how's that? Can you leave me alone already? You might be down here to have a good time, but I'm trying to work."

"On _what_?" Lance bristled. "You're supposed to be monitoring our descent for obstacles and reporting back!"

"Have I told you there are any obstacles?" she asked, and for a moment it looked like she was about to cross her arms over her chest. She seemed to reconsider at the last moment and dropped her hands onto her terminal instead.

"...No." He narrowed down his gaze at her warily.

"So then there're no obstacles!"

Pressure built inside his chest at her reply, irritated and potent and pushing its way outwards until he couldn't help but snap. Everything came pouring out in a heated burst.

"What is your _damage_ dude?" he snapped. "We're on a mission! I get that you hate my guts or whatever but we need to work together right now!"

He must've yanked off his harness at some point, because Lance found himself standing in front of her, both hands clenched into fists at his sides and lungs heaving. His face was flushed with frustration and his skin burned.

For several long moments the pair of them simply stared at one another. The air was heavy and oppressive around them, and even through the veil of his anger Lance could see Pidge was just as red-faced as he probably was. Tiny beads of sweat were working their way down the side of her face.

They were both breathing hard.

Why were they breathing that hard?

Lance came to a stop and forced himself to go slower, swallowing.

He felt warm. _Too_ warm. And Pidge looked just as bad, which didn't make sense because she hadn't been doing anything up until now but sit and weather his outburst.

A look of confusion replaced Lance's glare as he brought a hand up to his face. It came away slick with sweat.

The silence between them had stretched on for too long. Pidge was staring at him, her expression guarded and body tense.

"...What?" she asked.

Lance didn't reply. Instead he turned abruptly, hand grabbing the back of his seat as his eyes snapped to the HUD, frantically scanning the readouts until he found what the was looking for.

"That can't be right," he murmured.

"What did you say?" Pidge tried again. "What's going on? What the _heck_ is wrong with you?"

"The temperature gauge." Lance pointed a finger at it. "It's wrong."

He heard Pidge unbuckle her harness and she slowly came up beside him. "It says thirty-two." She squinted. "It's hot in here, so what?"

"So that's bad. Like, really bad. We're not supposed to be above twenty-seven," Lance said, frown deepening as he sat down quickly and tried tapping the screen.

It took just a split-second longer than normal for the information to load up. Lance grabbed his communicator. "Surface this is DSV _Derceto_ , we're starting to run hot down here, do you copy? Over," he said.

Silence answered for several seconds before Hunk's voice came through, choppy and cutting in and out around static.

"—ance?—an you hear m—? Comms are gett—kinda weird. What did you—y the tem—was?"

"Surface this is DSV _Derceto_ ," he echoed. "We are getting hot down here, I repeat, we are getting hot. Internal temperature is at thirty-two degrees. Can you hear me?"

He held his breath, and waited. It took even longer to get a reply this time.

"—id you say?—ty—at? There's too—uch s—tic. Lance? D—u—opy?"

"Lance?" Pidge's voice was thick; tense.

"We're not receiving a steady comms signal," he said. "Can you check the—"

"—Signal relay, got it," she finished for him, nodding. Pidge didn't waste any time in hurrying back to her terminal and the sound of clacking keys filled the cabin as Lance tried again to radio the surface.

He felt his stomach curl into an uncomfortable lump as he tapped the screen to refresh it and nothing happened for several long, grueling moments. When it did change it was with a sudden jump, before freezing again. It didn't inspire confidence.

"Pidge, how's that signal?" he called back without taking his eyes off the screen.

"We're still getting one, but it's like there's some sort of...delay. It's coming through all jumbled and broken. Nothing's going through," she said.

"Start checking all auxiliary and back-up systems," he said. "Make sure it isn't a battery issue. How's our pressure?"

"Hull integrity is still holding and O2 levels are...oh." Pidge stopped suddenly. Lance looked back and found her staring at her monitor, lips pressed into a thin line. "Uh. That isn't good." She pointed at her screen, but he couldn't make it out from that far away.

"What's not good? What're our oxygen levels Pidge?"

"I—they're normal, or they were. They were fine up until a moment ago! Then the number just dropped. I don't get it...the computer says the scrubbers are working," she said, hands working furiously across the keyboard for several moments.

She stopped almost as abruptly as she started though and let out a sound of frustration. "The system isn't responding! It's like it's all frozen up." Lance felt his heart knock around in his chest anxiously.

"Okay...okay." He exhaled and turned back to his screen, forcing back the creeping sense of panic trying to seep its way into his limbs. Lance reached for his radio and switched it on, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no sound would come from his mouth. His eyes were fixed on the altimeter in front of him.

It read 625 meters, steady and constant.

They were still sinking.

That number was supposed to be moving.

"Surface, this is DSV _Derceto_." Lance's tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. "Environmental controls and onboard monitoring systems are non-responsive. Depth gauge is no longer reading. Do you guys copy up there?"

Static. Nothing but quiet, empty static.

That was bad.

Very, very bad.

Lance put his communicator back on its cradle and took a deep, slow breath. "We're calling it."

"What?" Pidge turned to him in surprise.

"We're cancelling the dive. There's no way we can keep going with dead comms and all of our stuff freaking out. We gotta go back. Buckle up," he said. His hands were already moving to pull on his harness, but he waited until he could hear the sound of Pidge wrestling with hers before he called back, "Ready?"

"Yeah, ready."

"Okay." Lance nodded to himself and gave his monitor one last tap, a final attempt to prompt the systems into working.

He wasn't surprised when they didn't. Without missing a beat, he reached over to flip open a neon safety cap on his joystick and let his thumb hover over the button there as he turned his attention to the rest of his console.

"Priming weight-release. Stand by to disengage." He took a breath and held it, counting to three in his head.

He pressed it.

An explosion went off on his right, and it was the last thing Lance heard before something heavy collided with the side of his head and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your amazing support this far<3 All the comments and kudos all help keep me going and I'm humbled by how many people have enjoyed this fic so far!
> 
> The next few chapters mark sort of the "end" of the prologue phase, and after that we'll be getting into the meat of the fic where things really pick up! Updates might be a little slower, but I'll do my best to keep chapters coming out in a vaguely timely fashion.
> 
> As always, you can find me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff for the fic gets posted<3 I'm still looking for a beta or two, so if you're interested please send a message my way!
> 
> Also: Hunk's binary said "help me."


	5. Bistatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing fosters teamwork like a do-or-die situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: when I started writing this I thought that by chapter 2 or 3 max, Keith would be here and doing his thing. And then a whole bunch of plot happened ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Lance came to, he was slumped over the steering handle in front of him and his ears were ringing. He tried opening his eyes and was greeted with a world swathed in red and black. The floor, his shoes...everything was stained in it.

The ship's emergency lighting.

Lance took a moment to get his bearings. He was draped over the front controls and his chest ached. Looking down, he noticed several small plips of black on the floor between his feet. Above them his arm hung limp. Sore.

A bead of sweat ran down the curve of his jaw and fell, and when it landed in a splatter it was just as dark as the rest. Not sweat, he realized. Blood. Okay then.

He wheezed, curling his fingers into a slow fist and blinked, dazed. It felt like he'd been smacked upside the head with a two-by-four, and when he tried to take a shallow breath, his lungs filled not with air, but toxic smoke.

Lance choked. _Gagged_ , and wrenched himself back off the console with such force his vision swam. He fell over backwards onto the floor as a hand flew to his throat, staring up in horror up at the thick cloud of burning chemicals hanging overhead.

Something was on fire.

A cry of alarm died in his throat and Lance rolled onto his side, coughing and trying to drag in another breath. This time he got air, thin and tasting of seared plastic—but it was enough. Lance heaved, pulling in breath after desperate breath as he tried to peer into the rest of the cabin, keeping his head down.

He could barely see two feet in front of his face, yet managed to spy the oxygen mask that had dropped down in front of his station. It was lying on the floor nearby and he hurried over to it, but as he pressed it desperately onto his face there was no rush of air; no telltale signs of pressurization. He didn't feel it fasten, and when he tried to take in a breath from it he got nothing.

Lance pressed it harder to his face and held it there, eyes searching wildly as to _why_ , when he caught sight of the thin tube meant to send air into his mask. It had been melted straight through and lay useless on the floor.

Shit.

He wrenched it from his face and turned back to the cabin with mounting fear. "Pidge...!" His voice was raspy and raw, like a blanket was slowly being pressed over his face. "Pidge, can you hear me?"

"Lance...!" Her reply came from up ahead, muffled and thick. Relief flooded through him.

" _Pidge_. Just hang on okay?" He coughed. "I'm coming!"

It took precious seconds to peel himself off the floor and crawl towards the sound of her choking breaths, and when he found her, she was doubled over on her knees. A hand was desperately clasping the end of her shirt over her mouth and nose as she struggled with an oxygen mask of her own.

Lance stared as her hands shook, yanking in vain to loosen the fastening straps at the back. She was coughing and gagging as she tried—and failed—to attach it to her face. Oxygen poured out and she gasped greedily, but the mask didn't seal. Toxic fumes leaked in and Pidge retched, clawing at its edges.

Lance's eyes went wide.

The drills. The _practices_. Pidge hadn't been there for any of them. She hadn't gone through the safety procedures over and over and over, until the motions were drilled into her and became almost second-nature. Pidge didn't know the proper way to fasten her mask. She didn't know how to keep the smoke out so she could breathe.

She wasn't ready for this.

But Lance was.

The moment he understood, his own reflexes kicked into gear and he reached for her mask, yanking it down into place properly over her face until it sealed and pressurized. It gave a sharp hiss of air and she gasped, visor fogging up as he yanked on the straps to fasten it in place. Then he grabbed and lifted her face until they made eye contact.

Her face was pale and her eyes were bloodshot, but she was breathing.

"Take deep, slow breaths," he told her with a wheeze, and then he was letting go to turn on heel, moving ahead.

The cabin was still filling with fumes; his nose and throat burned with the smell of acrid smoke and his vision was starting to turn fuzzy at the edges. He knew he needed to find another mask and get some air into his own lungs before he asphyxiated, but instead Lance dragged himself to where he knew the fire extinguisher was mounted and wrenched it down onto the floor with him. The fires had to be put out first.

It took too long for him to pull the pin out, fingers clumsy and starved of oxygen. Every muscle in his body protested as he forced himself up onto his feet and hurried to where the plumes of smoke were freshest—where they spouted outwards to fill the cockpit—and aimed the nozzle at them.

The room filled with the sound of hissing as he shot burst after burst, smothering the flames one by one until slowly, toxic smoke stopped pouring into the cabin.

Lance felt his hold on the extinguisher slip and it fell from his hands with a loud _clang_. He staggered, off-balance and choking, and collapsed into the nearest wall. He felt himself hit the floor a moment later.

His eyes watered and stung terribly. His mouth hurt and tasted like burnt tar, but still he tried to find the strength to keep going and pulled himself upright. He needed to find another mask. His body was already going hypoxic. His head was swimming and his limbs were numb and useless, lead weights that wouldn't respond to his commands.

But if he could just find a _mask_...

Lance felt his lips part as his body tried to take in a breath of its own accord, but they opened and closed in vain. This time when he slumped to the floor there were no more stifled pockets of air to be found. He felt tired. Sick.

Not good, he thought. But at least he'd stopped the fires. Pidge had her mask. She was going to be okay, even if he wasn't. He could be satisfied with that.

As his vision blurred Lance swore he could hear someone calling his name, but it sounded miles away. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep, to sink into that comfortable dark where the burning in his chest would no longer reach him. Just for a moment...a minute or two.

Lance sighed and exhaled one final time. It was okay. His eyes fluttered shut.

Something shoved its way onto his face.

Air rushed into his lungs.

 

* * *

 

"Take deep, slow breaths." Lance.

 _Lance_.

Pidge's vision faded in and out of focus as she watched him pull back, staggering towards the end of the cockpit. She struggled to pull in great gulps of air, haggard and one after another as he pulled the extinguisher into his lap and fumbled with the pin. She saw him cough and choke as he climbed to his feet, fighting to smother the flames before they spread.

Why wasn't he wearing a mask of his own, she wondered dimly. Her mind was thick and cloudy, but she knew that much at least. He needed one. There was no air. If he didn't get one...

A heavy thud drew her attention and Pidge watched Lance slump to the floor, eyes fluttering like he was still fighting for consciousness. His body did little more than twitch. He was suffocating.

More air rushed into her lungs and Pidge wheezed. Her mind sharpened and the haze surrounding it became clearer.

"Lance!" She dragged herself to his side and gripped his shoulders, trying to shake him. Her arms felt weak and jellied, sapped of their strength. He didn't stir. "Lance, you idiot! Don't you dare pass out, stay with me here!" she croaked angrily, voice quaking. She wrenched herself back from him a moment later, pulling herself to her feet to stand on wobbly legs.

Now protected, she was free of the danger presented by the smoke and her chest heaved as she sucked in several deep breaths. She needed to focus. She needed a mask. Lance's mask, the one he should've been wearing.

She found it discarded and disconnected on the floor near his station and immediately understood why he hadn't bothered with it. Her stomach dropped but Pidge didn't hesitate to dash over to grab it, running back to his side and dropping fast to her knees. She yanked open the drawers to her terminal, shoving everything aside until she managed to grab a pair of pliers and some duct tape.

Pidge took a deep breath and held it. She could do this. Lance's life depended on it.

It only took a second to cut into the side of her own oxygen tube and make a half-inch incision. It took much longer than that to twist and angle the end of Lance's until it she could force them together and tape it off. Her lungs were aching by the time she finally let go and inhaled—and got air.

Instead of cheering at the rush of adrenaline that came her with her success, Pidge turned back to Lance and immediately forced the mask over his face. She pressed it down hard until it sealed just like hers had earlier, fogging up as it pressurized and filled with air.

Lance's chest didn't move.

"Come on!" she yelled. "Breathe, Lance!"

When he didn't respond, she reached around until she could fasten the straps tightly in place and pressed both hands on his chest, one overtop of the other, and shoved down.

No response. She did it again.

And again.

And aga—

Lance's whole body lurched suddenly, and Pidge nearly fell backwards in alarm as his eyes shot open and he sucked in a desperate breath.

" _Lance_...!" He didn't reply, but started to cough so she helped him quickly onto his side and waited for him to catch his breath. When he no longer wheezed she gently placed two fingers against his neck to take his pulse. Weak, but steady. Picking up slowly.

She almost sobbed with relief as she dropped her head onto his shoulder, hands curled into tight fists against him.

"You _idiot_ ," she croaked. "Why did you do that? Why wouldn't you..."

Pidge didn't finish her sentence, but it didn't seem she needed to. Lance's eyes were closed again as he huffed out a weak sound that could've been a laugh under better circumstances.

"...glad you'r...'kay."

This time she couldn't help but sniffle, emotion burning behind her eyes as she bit into her lips. Her shoulders shook.

"... _stupid_..."

Lance didn't reply, and Pidge didn't need him to.

They stayed together like that for a long time, her shoulders shaking silently as he tried to regain his breath. At some point he reached up to lay a hand atop one of her own in understanding, and she turned so she could grip it tightly instead.

No words passed between them until color had returned to Lance's face and the worst of his ragged wheezing had subsided.

"You okay?" he asked weakly.

Pidge snorted softly, lifting her head to stare at him with a mixture of relief and incredulousness.

"You're the one who almost died trying to be some kind of hero, and you're asking _me_ if _I'm_ okay." She shook her head and gave him a crooked smile. "I can't believe you."

"Bet I looked super-cool doing it though..." He sighed, smiling as he rolled carefully onto his back with her help.

She couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "Yeah, sure. You definitely looked cool hacking up a lung back there."

"Heh." Lance grinned and made move to let go of her hand, but Pidge kept her hold steadfast. He blinked. "...Pidge?"

"Don't ever do that again." She gripped his hand tighter and pressed her mouth into a thin line. "I thought you were—I thought you..." Her throat felt thick all over again and he frowned in concern at her, but when he tried to sit up she pushed her other hand into his chest to keep him still.

It took a moment, but slowly he relaxed and allowed her to guide him back down onto his back. Guilt welled up inside her like a spring freshly tapped as she dropped her gaze. It felt like everything wanted to come pouring out of her all at once, but all that managed to come out was:

"I'm so sorry, Lance." She sniffed, clutching his hand. "This was all my fault."

"Hey...no. No way, okay?" he said, but she shook her head. He didn't know, how could he? Lance was... _Lance_. He was stupid, he was brash, and worst of all, he was kind. Selfless, and foolishly brave.

And here she was, unprepared and a liability because of some petty... _grudge_. The very reason they were going to die down here. Pidge swallowed thickly and tried to pull away, but this time it was Lance who didn't let go. He gave her hand a short squeeze.

"We're going to be fine," he said. "The shot ballast released when we shorted out. We're not sinking anymore."

"We're still stuck down here," she murmured, lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes and jumping in surprise when her hand knocked against the mask with a soft _thunk_.

They both stared for a moment, looked at each other with mirroring looks of bewilderment—and then laughed. Weakly thanks to their sore throats and aching lungs, but it seemed to lift a weight from their shoulders all the same. Pidge allowed his hand to slip from hers and wrapped both arms around her knees. He offered her a weary smile she couldn't help but return.

"At least the ship's holding up."

"That's about the only thing holding up right now," she pointed out with a lifted brow. "That power surge blew out all our systems. We're on reserve oxygen. Life support's down."

"Okay but, you know what I mean," he tried again, sighing as he lifted his arms and let them fall splayed out across the floor. "It could be way worse."

Pidge looked over at him in confusion. "We're trapped over two thousand meters below sea level sharing eight hours of emergency air between two people, with no hope of rescue. How could things possibly be any worse?"

"You could've stopped talking to me again."

He said it so plainly and so simply that Pidge almost didn't know how to react, stunned into silence. Guilt began festering anew inside of her and she opened her mouth, but he shook his head before she had a chance to speak and continued.

"It's cool. I know I messed up big time with you when this whole thing started," he said. "If I were you, I'd be pretty mad at me too."

She groaned. "Lance... It's fine. Just stop—we should conserve our oxygen."

He shook his head again. "This is important. I need to tell you something, something I've been trying to tell you for weeks now and I should've done it way earlier—"

" _I know_. I know, Lance," she said. "I heard you."

"I'm—wait, what?" Lance did a doubletake and looked at her with such earnest surprise that Pidge felt embarrassment rise to her face. She pushed a palm into her mask, forgetting yet again that it was there.

"I...heard you. When you apologized back on the ship. Okay?"

"Wh..." She didn't need to look up to know that he was probably gaping at her, wide-eyed and comical. Lance was just that kind of guy. "You did?! But then why didn't you say anything? Did you...do you...hate me?"

Pidge felt her shoulders hunch as she grumbled, slowly curling her hands into her lap.

"I don't...hate you, Lance. I never did—or if I did it was only at the beginning," she said. "I was just so... _mad_ at you. I thought you were just like everyone else. That you were only in all of this for the glory or whatever. That you didn't care. And when we were at the party and you went off with _Lotor_ of all people I just..." Pidge pressed her mouth into a thin line and exhaled slowly. "I shouldn't have avoided you gu—you," she corrected. "I could tell you felt bad but I just wanted to be mad at you. And look where that got us."

Pidge grit her teeth, emotion boiling up inside her again as her hands started to shake. "We're gonna die here at the bottom of the ocean and it's all my fault."

Her chest heaved as she took great gulps of air, her throat thick and tight now in a way that had nothing to do with the smoke filling the air around them. Her eyes had only just started to prickle and sting again when Lance pushed himself up so that he was in a sitting position. She didn't try to stop him this time.

"Well...yeah. But least we're gonna do it together. That's something right? We're not alone." He offered her a crooked smile and Pidge felt like her heart was going to burst. She couldn't help it; she let out a sound that was as much of a sob as it was a laugh.

"You are just...the worst, Lance."

He grinned. "Yeah, but I grow on you eventually. Like a fungus."

"That's disgusting."

Pidge shook her head and chuckled as she crawled forward and turned until she was sitting back against the wall at his side, letting her head thunk against the metal. Together they stared out across the hazy cockpit, into the ink black beyond the porthole.

A somber silence settled between them until Lance, of course, ruined it. Pidge found she didn't mind.

"Hunk told me about why you wanted to go on this mission," he said. "About how you want to find out what happened to them."

She hummed. "I figured. He texted me almost non-stop the whole time I was gone. You came up a lot. Usually in connection with him barfing."

"Gross."

"Says the guy who thinks being compared to fungus is a good thing."

"It's just an expression!" he said. "And what I am _trying_ to say is that I'm sorry things got so screwed up, okay? Like...I dunno. I wish things were different. That you could figure it out and stuff."

"It's fine," she shook her head with a sigh, closing her eyes. "There's no point in worrying about it anymore. What's done is done."

"Still..." Lance trailed off, and Pidge swore she could hear the frown in his voice. "Hey."

An elbow poked her in the side and she grunted, turning back to look at him. "What?"

"I just realized something."

"What, Lance? You should stop wasting your air."

He ignored her. "How come the weights didn't drop?"

"...Huh?"

"The weights," he repeated. "We stopped falling when the breaker or whatever tripped because all our ballast released like it was supposed to. But the weights didn't. They should've been let go at the same time so we'd rise if the power went out."

Pidge stared for a long moment.

He was right. The weights should've let go automatically. If power went out, all weights and shot ejected itself automatically so they could be recovered safely. It was the most basic safety feature on the _Derceto_.

"...I don't know," she said slowly. "Maybe something went wrong with the release mechanism."

"What, like it jammed or something?" he asked.

"Could be. Maybe the hydraulics got caught under the pressure. It wouldn't let go if something like that happened."

"But what if we could get them to, if we could manually remove them from the ship?"

" _Manually_?" Pidge's eyebrows shot up into her hairline in disbelief. "That's impossible—we're over a thousand meters down, Lance! The pressure out there right now is enough to literally flatten us. There's no way we could reach it."

But rather than look discouraged, Lance's eyes were bright behind his mask; almost aflame with how certain they were.

"I can reach it."

"Wh—" She started, recoiling. "Lance, _no one_ can reach it. Were you listening to anything I just said? The pressure will kill you!"

" _I can reach it_ ," he insisted, leaning forward. "We prepped the _Derceto_ for a dive—a real dive, like we would be going down into the Kraydah. My deep-sea pressure suit is on board, I can use it to get outside and get to the weight release!"

Pidge swore her heart nearly stopped. Her mind reeled.

"I...that... _yeah_ , yeah that could work," she breathed, stupefied by the realization that they might not be totally doomed. That they might actually have a way out of this.

It was short-lived.

"Wait, no!" she said. " _Lance_. Your suit hasn't been prepped for this depth! If you go out there now—"

"I won't be crushed right off the bat," he said with a firm shake of his head. "It's got some give. These babies are good up to a depth of about 4,500 meters."

"Yeah, when they're _properly calibrated!_ " She threw out her arms and Lance bristled in response.

"It'll be fine! I'm dense!"

"Uhh, _yeah_! I know that! I've seen you in action, Lance."

"No!" He sputtered. "I mean like _literally dense_! I have a higher pressure-threshold than most people!" Pidge levelled him with a look of clear disbelief and he ran his hands through his hair, aggravated.

"It happens when you spend a lot of time in a high-pressure environment!" he said hurriedly. "Just trust me okay? I'll be fine out there!"

"Even _if_ that's true, that still leaves one giant flaw in your plan!" she said, turning on him now. "Say you do get out there and you do detach the weights. The rise to the surface will _definitely_ kill you, pressure suit or not! They're not designed for rapid climbs like that."

"Yeah Pidge, I know." Lance crossed his arms over his chest.

"So then it won't work. You wouldn't make it."

"I wouldn't," he said. "But you would."

Pidge froze.

"—Lance, _no_. No way. You are _not_ going out there, you'll die!"

"Well it's either that or stay down here until we both do," he said, determined and unfazed. "One of us getting out of here is better than none. Besides, it's not like I've got zero chance out there. The suit'll hang neutral in the water. If I make my way up slowly—"

"You'll run out of air before you even get close to the surface!"

" _Pidge_." Lance grabbed her by her shoulders and held her tight, keeping her gaze trained on him. His expression was firm.

"This is our only shot," he said. "We've got to try. I'll get you up there, and you can get help. My suit has GPS built into it, you'll be able to find me."

But not in time, she wanted to yell. The only thing they'd find by the time they were able to send down the resources and personnel to retrieve him would be a body. Maybe even less than that. And yet, if he stayed inside with her...it would be two bodies they found instead of one. It was their only chance. Bile rose in Pidge's throat. Her stomach turned to lead.

Her head hung defeated when she spoke, a single word that turned to ash in her mouth. "Okay."

Pidge wanted to hit him as she saw the relief blossom across Lance's face in the wake of her surrender, but he pulled her into a tight hug before she ever got the chance. Her arms came up without hesitation and she clung to him like she would never let go.

It was inevitable that he pulled back a few seconds later. Pidge stood with him, looping her arm under his and draping it across her shoulders to support him. She helped him to the back of the cockpit where his suit was held in a heavy capsule-like tube that attached to the ceiling and stared at it.

From what she'd been told, it usually took almost an hour to properly put on and adjust pressure suit. The material of it was black, thick and tough but strangely malleable and Pidge honestly couldn't have said what it was made of if he'd asked. Lance pulled it on in minutes like a second skin.

It had no zipper but still opened and closed around his limbs, fibers knitting together and hardening until it resembled a wetsuit of sorts. If she hadn't seen it move and meld to fit him the way it had, she could've sworn it was one solid piece to begin with. It was...weird.

She hoped it would work.

When everything but his helmet was in place Lance pulled back from her and placed a hand on the bottom of his mask.

"It's gonna take three minutes to pressurize properly before I can go out. Once I go through the main hatch, I'll head straight to the underside of the ship. When I'm in position I'll bang twice on the hull to let you know okay? Comms are down in here so I won't be able to give you much more of a head's up than that."

Pidge nodded mutely and kept her hands stiff at her sides, and when she failed to do more than that Lance reached over to place a hand gently on her shoulder.

"It'll be okay Pidge. You've got this."

It didn't feel like it, but she nodded anyway and watched as he pulled off his mask, quickly replacing it with his helmet. There was a brief pause as it knit itself into the material of his diving suit and sealed off, and then the internal lights flickered on. They bathed his face—and hers—in a pale blue light that stung after so long in the dark emergency lighting.

They exchanged one last long look after the spots cleared from their vision before he cracked that same confident half-grin and turned, disappearing through the cockpit door. He watched as it sealed shut behind him, leaving her alone.

Alone and safe, while Lance risked his life to keep her alive. Like she somehow mattered more than him, like it was more important that she survive instead of him.

Logically, she knew that if she crunched the numbers it made sense: if they did nothing it would only be a matter of time before their air depleted itself and they ran out. They'd die, suspended in a capsule of toxic gas with no way to escape. But if they did this at least one of them had a chance.

Lance had experience using pressure suits and knew how to use them. His suit had been practically tailored to his own unique biorhythms. If he could get outside and survive long enough to detach the weights, it was very likely that Pidge would make it to the surface in one piece. Lance, though...

It was objectively their best option, but that didn't mean she had to like or accept it.

There had to be _something_ she could do, she thought angrily. She couldn't just let him go out there and do nothing about it. If she could just restore the power somehow, figure out what went wrong with the PAC...

Pidge's gut churned with guilt. As long as that was non-responsive there'd be no way to get anything working. Her only shot was a manual work-around, like what Lance was doing. She needed something separate, like Lance's suit. Something she could maneuver and control remotely.

Pidge gasped. _Control remotely._ Of course—the ROV. They'd loaded it onto the docking station on top of the ship before the dive to accurately simulate the weight they'd have during the _Derceto_ mission.

Her eyes snapped up at the ceiling overhead just as a sharp screeching sound from beyond the outer hull made her jump. Lance had opened the hatch.

Wasting no time in yanking the drawers out of her terminal, Pidge cursed and prayed that she'd make it in time.

 

* * *

 

The instant the thick door sealed behind him Lance was engulfed in darkness. He heard more than felt the water as it started to flood the room, going from high and dry to an ankle deep in cold sea water in only a matter of seconds.

Not the water from outside, of course. The pressure difference between this room and the water outside would have been enough to slice through steel if he just opened the hatch and let it in. This water was special, a synthetic compound designed by the Garrison for the express purpose of simulating the aquatic environments they wanted to train and test in. It would sense the water pressure pushing in around the hull and slowly match its own to it until they equalized and the outside hatch could be safely undone.

Lance flicked on the headlamps mounted on his helmet as the water rose around him and waited for the first adjustments of pressure. It didn't take long, maybe a minute at most for liquid to replace the mixture of gases in the room. He could feel a brief tightening sensation, like he was being given a pinch; then his suit kicked in, fibers locking together and hardening to weather the worst of it.

The default setting on his suit was for one hundred atmospheres of pressure, around a thousand meters. The analog gauge mounted on the wall told him that outside it was closer to 1,500—a difference large enough to squish a human being in an instant. With some manual adjustments to the suit he could probably bump his threshold closer to 1,300.

All he had to do was weather the extra twenty-odd atmospheres of pressure long enough to reach the underside of the _Derceto_ and remove the weights. No big deal, he told himself. Piece of cake. Walk in the park.

Lance swallowed.

The pressure built.

And built and built, until all space between his skin and the suit ceased to exist as it shrunk and conformed to him like a coating of pliable armor. It became harder and harder to take deep breaths, so Lance stopped trying. He did his best to stay relaxed, and by the time the room had equalized enough for him to swim his way to the _Derceto'_ s hatch, every part of him ached. It felt like lead weights had been attached to his limbs; even just cranking the release took every ounce of strength he could muster, muscles straining under the effort.

When the door finally swung open Lance collapsed against the edge of it, gasping in shallow breaths that did very little to help him recover. And oh boy, did it hurt. The toxic smoke from earlier was certainly doing its job; each inhale was like breathing fire.

He had to keep going. Lance forced himself to kick his legs and anchored himself to the top rung of the ladder. The world around him was a void of endless dark that swallowed the light from his headlamps after only a few meters. There was no time to check his surroundings though. Lance gulped and angled himself downward, sticking close against the hull of the submersible as he began his descent.

Each kick felt like it stretched his body's limits to the utmost, but there was nothing he could do but rely on his own strength. He couldn't risk activating the propulsion system without proper adjustments. All he could do was weather the pressure and push himself, slow and deliberate as he followed the neon-green paneling of the ship to its rounded underbelly.

His ears were ringing by the time he was able to hug the frame of the ship and drift into position. His jaw ached. His eyes hurt. Each breath was faster and shorter than the last.

But he could see it now, with his face turned up towards the bottom of the ship from below: the twin shelves of lead weights, slotted seamlessly into the hull. The steel slats that fastened them to the ship were extended and locked in place.

The pressure was starting to become unbearable even when stationary, now. Lance didn't have time to spend staring, and spurred himself on with sheer determination; his hand closed around the circular latch in between each of the weights and gripped tightly. He brought his other back and thumped his fist twice against the hull, as hard and heavy as he could.

A dull clang echoed through the ship and he repeated the action once more, hoping that Pidge could hear it. That she'd...know, any minute now, that she'd be safe and okay. That she'd make it. One of them had to or it'd all be for nothing.

Lance's suit constricted tighter around him and he gave a pained grunt, flinching against the hull. He was reaching his limit; his body was giving out. He had to hurry.

Gritting his teeth through the crushing sensation that seeped its way into every last fiber of his body, Lance grabbed hold of the latch and curled his fingers tightly around it. Then, summoning up every last ounce of strength he could muster, he pulled.

The mechanism resisted. Lance's body screamed. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of his own heart pounding frantically inside his chest. It had to work. It had to give. He just needed to turn, turn, _turn_ —

A shout tore its way from his mouth as he summoned up every last shred of strength left in his body and twisted until the latch finally clicked and gave way. Both weights dropped from the ship, twelve tonnes of lead swishing back and forth as they sunk and the ship suddenly rose, taking off like a jet.

The handle wrenched itself from his throbbing fingers and it sped upwards, sending a jolt of fear through his chest. For one brief instant he tried to reach out towards it, but his cramping fingers closed around nothing but water. It was too late. One blink, and he could barely make out the tiny red glow from the porthole as it vanished towards the surface, leaving him behind.

Even as his heart fluttered and strained inside his chest like a rabbit caught in a trap, Lance tried to tell himself this was okay. This was what had to happen. It was the only way.

But repeating it over and over inside his head did nothing to quell the sense of panic and fear churning in his gut as the dark closed in around him. His limbs were useless now, leaden at his sides and wracked with grueling pain. His chest stuttered as he tried to draw in a breath and his lungs protested, cramped and crushed.

This was it, then. Lance clenched his eyes tightly shut and groaned though the strain, begging for it to just...just _end_ , if was going to be like this, and nearly choked when something bright cast down on him from above with such blindingly intensity, it burned even behind his eyelids.

Confused, Lance flinched an arm towards his face and tried to turn away from the flood light that cut down through the water, squinting through his fingers.

"Wh...what...?" he croaked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

The light flickered once, and then he heard it: the steady hum of motorized fans.

It descended from overhead and sunk past him and Lance was left blinking to clear the spots from his vision when he felt a solid weight push up into him from below, driving him slowly upwards. The ship's ROV.

 _Pidge_.

Lance choked on a laugh and fell back, finally allowing himself to go limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote most of this chapter all in one sitting, if you can believe it. It was a wild ride of emotions and wouldn't have been possible without [derkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins) and [Jemisard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/). Thank you guys so much for letting me talk your ears off about this and supporting me all the way.
> 
> Once again huge, _huge_ thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or kudo! Hearing how much people enjoy this fic always motivates me to try harder and churn out more. I really appreciate all the kind words and support.
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 **I'm still in need of a beta or two** , so if you're interested please send a message my way!


	6. Saturation Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally start putting the "team" in "teamwork," just in time for one very important reveal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, had a very busy two weeks: first churning out a one-shot vampire AU Klance fic, and then touring during my spring vacation! One day I'll return to a normal update schedule.

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 05.38.2313.12.01_

 

"DSV Operator log: we are thirty-one days into our mission at Deepsea Research Station, Komar. All systems are fully functional and running smoothly.

" _Professor_ Holt, as he now wants to be called, would like to pass on the request for more sound-imagining equipment in our next supply run. Apparently, the stuff you guys sent down the first time is having some issues. Something about too much feedback? There were some weird echoes in the recordings.

"Aside from that though, we appear to be right on schedule. Readings from the Trench are roughly what we thought they'd be and the _Kerberos_ is prepped and ready for our dive. I'm going to proceed with sampling and send the new footage from the ROVs as soon as communications open up at 06:00 tomorrow.

"Shirogane Takashi, signing off."

 

* * *

 

The very first thing Hunk did once Pidge was all cleared for visitors was throw his arms around her in a bruising hug, tears and snot running unashamed down his face. He didn't care how over-dramatic or messy it was; none of that mattered as much as the fact that she was _okay_ , that she wasn't dead and they'd managed to get to her in time.

"You're alive!" Hunk wailed, squeezing harder and lifting her half off her hospital bed. Pidge squeaked. "I thought you were dead, but you're alive! I thought I _killed_ you guys! When everything went dark and we had no way to reach you, we thought...I thought..."

"Hunk," she croaked. "You're crushing me."

"Oh—rightrightright, sorry! Sorry." He quickly released her and she stumbled back onto the bed, gasping as he brought up a hand and rubbed guiltily at his neck. She looked a little winded and he felt a short pang of guilt when he realized that it probably wasn't the best idea to be crushing someone who'd nearly suffocated only too recently. "I'm just—oh, man. I'm so glad you're okay... You are okay, right? Should I call someone?" He sniffed.

"You don't need to call anyone, just...ease up on the grip of death a little next time," she said wryly, sitting back.

He gave her a once-over just to be sure, but for the most part she did seem fine. It was practically a miracle after how bad things had been when they'd first brought her in, all singed and pale. Words couldn't even begin to describe how he'd felt, waiting and hoping she'd be okay. Seeing her upright and in good spirits was a much-needed balm to his frayed nerves.

Still, no harm in checking. Double-checking. Triple.

"Are you sure? I mean, I know the doctors cleared you and everything but if you need anything...or if can do something..." _After you nearly died down there, no big deal_.

"I'm okay," she said. "Really, Hunk. I've...actually never felt better." She blinked, nonplussed.

"Oh, right. That'd uh...that'd be the cryo-replenisher we had you in. You were in really bad shape when they brought you in here." Hunk rubbed the back of his neck slowly. "They...weren't sure you were gonna make it at first."

"Oh."

Hunk watched as she brought her hand up to her chest and held it there. She looked distant, troubled, and honestly? He didn't blame her. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it'd been like down there for her. It had been awful on the surface, not knowing what was happening and being unable to do anything about it. He'd never been more afraid in his life.

"I feel _fine_ , Hunk," she smiled, and he couldn't help but smile back. "Other than that tingly feeling in my legs, anyway. What's up with that?"

"Cryo-sickness," he nodded sagely. "It'll probably stick around a day or two. Kind of a side-effect of being in one of those things so long? You'll be kinda groggy and weird for the next day or so. Wobbly knees, bit of lightheadedness. Did you know internal damage takes twice as long to heal as regular damage? Because I sure didn't."

Pidge fitted him with a crooked smile and tucked some hair back behind her ear. "I'm sorry for worrying you. I... Wait." She frowned. "How long was I out? What day is it?"

Hunk scratched at one cheek and held up his hands. "Well...Tuesday, but before you freak out or anything—"

Pidge ignored him and jolted upright, alarmed. " _Tuesday_ _?_ It's been three days?!"

He hesitated, knowing this next bit wasn't going to go over well. "Aaaactually it's been more like...nine? Y'see, you sort of cooked your lungs down there and stuff like that takes _way_ longer to heal than like, bruises or cuts and junk."

Her jaw dropped.

"But...I..." He could already see her trying to make sense of it all and felt a pang of sympathy run through him, although he was taken aback when she suddenly turned on him, stricken. " _Lance!_ " she exclaimed, alarmed. "Where's Lance? Hunk, he was still _down there_ —"

"Whoa whoa—! Hold up! _Relax_ , okay? You're not totally out of the woods yet, you need to take it easy," he said, but she was already tugging back the covers and trying to get up. He had to act quickly to keep her from trying to stand, blurted out, less gracefully than he'd intended to, "Lance is fine! We got to him in time, thanks to you. He's alive."

Finally, she stopped. Her expression was guarded and uncertain, but when she didn't make any new moves to push past him he let out a breath of relief and slowly lowered his hands. There was a pause of several seconds before she too began to slowly relax, though she still looked troubled.

"Where...where is he? Where am I? Is this still the _Castleship_ _?_ " she asked.

"Nah, we moved you guys to the Garrison and put you up in medical as soon as we hit dry land. The pods here are way easier to get to than the ones on the ship. Plus, it's the only place we had one we could fix up for Lance." He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. "Being out in the water that deep means he's gotta go through decompression even if he's all healed up."

"But he's...okay, right?"

The genuine concern in her features made Hunk's expression soften and he nodded, offering her a warm look.

"He's very okay, and very bored. We could probably go see him if you want. They're keeping him for observations but Yours Truly has an all-access visitor's pass," he said proudly, holding up a lanyard printed with his name and ID. "I could rustle you up a wheelchair and have you over in five minutes, flat."

"I don't need a wheelchair Hunk," Pidge groaned, rolling her eyes. "But...some help would be appreciated." Hunk grinned knowingly.

"Got ya covered. Just, uhh...one thing. Before we go." Pidge slowly lifted a brow.

"What is it?"

"You have to promise not to laugh."

"Laugh? Why would I laugh?"

"You'll see."

 

* * *

 

Pidge did indeed see. Not at first of course, because as it turned out she actually _did_ need a wheelchair to make it all the way from her room to Lance's, and that wasn't very funny.

Neither was the sight of him inside a large metal tank, as long as the room was wide and just as tall. There was a viewport on one panel that let them see inside and her heart had leapt with relief inside her chest when she saw him pacing back and forth within. He looked...well, just as healthy as he had before the test dive. It was almost hard to believe, given the last time she'd seen him he was struggling to breathe.

It was admittedly a little amusing to see him look up from his pacing and notice them, eyes widening in disbelief until delight had taken its place. He'd rushed over and pressed his hands and face up against the glass.

But what had really gotten her, what had finally clued her in, was the moment Lance opened his mouth...and the most comically high-pitched, squeaky voice she'd ever heard came pouring out.

"Hunk...? Pidge—!" he gasped. "You're okay! What the heck, no one told me you were awake!" He was nothing but excitement, eyes impossibly bright and the widest of grins on his face.

But Pidge could only stare. Pressure built up in her lungs.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to try and muffle the beginnings of a snort, but it didn't help.

" _Lance_ _?_ " she blurted, incredulous as a burst of laughter escaped her. "What is that—is that your _voice_ _?_ "

Lance looked taken aback by that and quickly bristled, color rising to his face. "Shut up! I know what it sounds like, don't laugh...!" Pidge, unfortunately, only laughed harder.

"You...you sound like a chipmunk," she gasped, holding onto her sides as she tried to keep from doubling over in her chair. Tears of mirth pricked at the corners of her eyes and behind her somewhere she heard Hunk muffle a quiet snort as well, which only exacerbated Lance's distress.

" _Hunk_ _!_ Not you too...! Come on man, you know I can't help it!"

"S...sorry, man. It's a little funny..."

"Why do you sound like that?" Pidge wheezed, still laughing even as Lance smacked an open palm into the glass.

"It's because of the pressure! It's totally normal!"

"It sounds like you swallowed a balloon...!" She cackled.

Lance scowled. "Ugh, see if I ever worry about you again...!"

Hunk, thankfully, took that moment to step in and did a much better job of controlling himself as he wheeled her into the room proper, giggles and snorts still shaking her shoulders. "Aww, Lance. Come on... We know it's because of the air pressure. It's just, you know." Hunk grinned and rubbed his nose. "Kinda...hilarious. Is all. A little."

Lance wasn't having any of it though and turned away, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "You guys are the _worst_. I almost died! Where's the sympathy, hmph..." he sulked.

The mood in the room changed immediately and Pidge felt the heaves of laughter bubbling in her gut peter out almost as quickly as they'd formed. Hunk's grin fell away to something much more uncertain and a look of concern replaced it.

That was right. Lance _had_ almost died. He'd put himself at risk to save her with no real chance of rescue. He'd sacrificed himself so that one of them could live. The only reason he was standing here at all was because through some great stroke of luck, Hunk and the others had reached him in time. It was a sobering revelation.

"Lance..." she murmured.

"What?" he huffed, peeling one eye open to glance back at them unhappily at first. He looked moody and unhappy, but as soon as he noticed the looks on their faces he turned back quickly and his irritation vanished. "Whoa, hey, wait—guys, come on. Don't look at me like that, you know I didn't mean it like that..." he said quickly.

"You're right though," Pidge said quietly, her brows creased with regret. "You did almost die out there. Because of me."

" _Hey_. Not that again, alright?" he said sternly. "You totally saved my butt out there. Pullin' the ROV out like that... That was quick thinking. I would've been toast if you hadn't got it up and running."

"Yeah," Hunk cut in. "Seriously Pidge, we never would've found him if it weren't for you. We never would have found either of you."

It wasn't as simple as that for her though, and Pidge turned her gaze to the floor as her hands curled slowly into loose fists. Regret clawed its way out from her insides as she stared at the plain patterning of her hospital clothes and pursed her lips.

"Lance shouldn't have had to go out there in the first place."

"It was a freak accident," Lance tried to console her. "No one could've predicted things would go all wonky down there, okay? The important thing is that we made it out of there in one piece."

"But it wasn't an accident," Pidge muttered, hands white. She didn't dare to look up and see their reactions; she could only imagine what they were thinking, how confused they must be. As far as they probably knew it _had_ seemed all an accident. There was no way for them to know what she'd already realized on her way up to the surface, the conclusion she'd come to when she'd had nothing to do _but_ think as the _Derceto_ had shot its way up to the surface. To safety. Away from Lance.

The system failures, the lack of response from the ship, the weight release...

"It was me," she said quietly. "I'm the one that messed with the _Derceto_ 's systems."

The room fell completely and utterly silent. Neither of them said a word and Pidge felt the weight of each and every second pressing down on her, squeezing her insides until it felt like she'd break. Her stomach twisted itself into knots and her throat felt thick. This was it. The moment they'd come to realize what she'd done, how phenomenally she'd screwed everything up. How it was all her fault, how she'd almost gotten them both _killed_.

Hunk was the first one to speak.

"Pidge...what the heck are you saying? You messed with the _Derceto_ _?_ How? When?" He sounded like he couldn't believe her, and she didn't blame him. She just took a breath and tried to keep her voice even when she spoke.

"The night I came back, in your office. I changed the _Derceto_ 's coding."

The same night Hunk had looked so happy and relieved to see her when he'd found her. He'd been so preoccupied with the fact that she'd been back he'd failed to notice the contents of her screen at the time, and Pidge had been grateful for it. It had been deceptive but necessary, she'd thought at the time. Now she only felt shame, acrid and awful in the back of her mouth.

"But...why?"

It was a question that had many answers. Pidge didn't know where to begin. She didn't know if they could even understand why she'd done it. If she could explain it without sounding crazy or desperate or worse. It had been hard enough to land herself a place on this mission even with her skill and relation to the previous crew. The truth of why she was on this mission, what she'd really joined for... No one sane would take her seriously. They'd think she was _unbalanced_. Just like the reports said her father had been.

But she had to tell them _something_. They deserved it, more than she deserved to be anywhere near the mission after everything that'd happened.

Pidge took a breath.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone," she said. "I was just trying to boost the imagining signal of the sonar systems. It was just supposed to take _pictures_. It wasn't supposed to overthrow the whole system and nearly get us killed." Her voice became tight then and she had to stop speaking to try and steady herself. She breathed. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. "I should've told you guys, I just didn't think... Nothing happened on the previous dives, I didn't know—" Her fists trembled where they bunched up in the fabric of her pants. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Hunk. Lance."

The burn behind her eyes was becoming unbearable. Pidge wound up blinking her eyes rapidly to try and clear them, but all that did was cause them to well up and pour over until tears began to run down her cheeks. First one, then the other.

The hand that landed on her shoulder a moment later made her startle so bad she almost gave herself whiplash. When she looked up and found Hunk staring back her stomach roiled with nerves, but his expression wasn't one of anger or betrayal like she'd expected. Like there ought to have been. And when she glanced past him neither was Lance's.

Hunk's features were soft, of all things, and there was a compassion there that she couldn't comprehend when he spoke.

"Pidge, we know you'd never sabotage the mission on purpose," he said, and he sounded so genuine Pidge felt a rush of emotion run through her. "We know how much it means to you. It's okay."

"But it's _not_ ," she argued. "I almost—"

"Totally fried our bacon down there?" Lance cut in, arms crossed. "Sure. But you also saved our lives. And I'm not just talking about the ROV here either. You spliced up those masks and halved your own oxygen supply just to help me."

"Lance is right, Pidge." Hunk offered her a smile, and Pidge felt something in her chest tighten. "You kind of saved the day down there."

"But I..."

"No butts!" Lance held up a finger and pointed at her. "When things got hot you totally had my back down there. We were like an awesome...super-cool diving rescue team!"

"But it was _my fault_ we got stuck down there in the first place...!"

Hunk shrugged. "Well yeah, but you can fix it right?"

"...What?" She was missing something here. Or they were, the both of them. Brains, or common sense. Anything that would make them understand how monumentally she'd screwed up here instead of looking like...like _this_. Like they trusted her.

"The problem with the coding and stuff. You can fix it?"

She nodded slowly, unsure. "I mean...yeah, probably. I'd have to look at it to figure out where it went wrong, but..."

"Then do that," he said easily. "We aren't gonna get very far if it just keeps crashing every time we put it in the water. And I don't know if you've noticed, but computers aren't exactly Lance's strong point."

"Hey...!"

Hunk ignored Lance and gave her shoulder a squeeze, before pulling back and smiling. "My point is, we need you down there, Pidge. We're a team now. That means when one of us screws up, the other two are there to cover for them." He shrugged. "You don't have to do everything yourself. We're here for you."

Pidge was speechless. They way he said it, the way they both looked her like it was just that simple. They knew how badly she'd messed up and they were still there, still wanted her on the team. They didn't blame her even though they had every right to. She couldn't understand _why_ , but she found the pressure squeezing around her heart lessen just a fraction.

She choked on a wet laugh and brought a hand up to rub at her eyes, pushing her glasses up her face. When they settled they were crooked, but she didn't even care. She just sniffed and did her best to keep her voice from trembling.

"You guys are the weirdest," she said, swallowing. "But...I guess weird isn't so bad."

Lance grinned and puffed up proudly, arms akimbo. "Yep, and now you're stuck with us." Pidge felt herself smirk weakly and reached up to adjust her glasses.

"...Like a fungus?"

Lance's grin couldn't have been any bigger.

" _Exactly._ "

Hunk groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "You guys are so gross."

 

* * *

  
The first thing Pidge decided she wanted to do was tell the Garrison what she'd done. Hunk and Lance might have forgiven her for what she'd done, but there was still the issue of everything else she'd put at risk and simply pretending it was some kind of unfortunate mistake didn't sit well with her. Not after everything she'd put them through.

Just coming out and telling them what had happened without fixing the damage she'd done though wasn't an option. It was only a matter of time until their technicians figured out what had happened, and as soon as that happened there was no way they'd let her anywhere near the ship's coding. If she waited until then it'd be too late.

So they'd put a plan together.

For the next two days all she and Hunk did was work feverishly through all the coding she'd added to the _Derceto_. They poured over every line, every change she'd made, all the logs they could scrounge up from the _Derceto_ 's database before it had stopped responding. It caused the nurses no small amount of grief when they turned Lance's room into their base of operations at his insistence ("because I'll die of boredom if you guys hole up somewhere and abandon me!"). The floor was lost to print-outs and equipment after only the first day. All three of them woke the next morning to the shriek of surprise when one of the nurses tripped over the scattered messed and sent their breakfast flying.

It was an organized mess after that and they made sure to keep the doorway clear.

The work was exhausting. As far as Pidge could tell, Lance was the only one of them who was actually getting any rest. He didn't know enough about the work to help out and didn't care enough to find it interesting, so he just talked about anything that came to mind. Sometimes he asked questions, other times he just complained about how much it sucked to live in a tank, and how he now had a new-found sympathy for canned fish.

It should've been annoying, grating at the very least. But Pidge found herself almost enjoying the senseless chatter. Neither she nor Hunk had to carry a conversation because Lance didn't seem to expect a reply to most of what he said. He was just talking to fill the empty space, and it made things...comfortable. Weeks ago, it would've driven her up the wall. But now she found it almost reassuring; it grounded her when so much else about all of this still felt so rocky and uncertain. More than once she'd looked up at a comment from Lance, only to find Hunk smiling at her over the edge of his laptop.

Things weren't immediately better between them. She knew that, even with their reassurance. They were a team in name only, but she was starting to think that maybe—just maybe—more than that wouldn't be the worst thing ever. Now that she wasn't spending all her time avoiding Lance she found herself cracking brief smiles at his commentary, his stupid jokes.

It was during their first night like that when she found herself watching him as he dozed, slumped with his face propped up against the glass all flattened and mushed and drooling. Pidge fought the urge to roll her eyes as she smiled, setting her laptop to the side.

She made her way around the mess of debris, careful not to disturb Hunk, and rapped her knuckles quietly against the glass. Predictably Lance started, disoriented and blinking until his gaze settled on her and some focus returned to his gaze.

"Pidge...?" he murmured, confused.

"You fell asleep against the glass again," she smirked. "Fourth time. Go to bed, Lance."

"Mm...mnah, I'm—I was just...restin' my eyes is all. I'm still good. Totally..." He yawned. "Rarin' to go."

"I can see that." He looked even more exhausted than she felt, but still he managed to offer her a sincere, albeit tired crook of his lips. "You left drool marks all over the glass."

He squinted. "What...? Oh...ew. Gross. Pretend you didn' see that." He brought an arm up and wiped at it, and the frown on his face was so focused on the task Pidge couldn't help but snicker.

"Alright, but only if you go lie down. You need the rest. After...everything." Pidge pressed her hand against the glass slowly and fought the urge the urge to look away. "You've already done a lot. More than I could ever..."

 _Ask for_ , she wanted to say. But the words didn't come to her. How could they? How did she even begin to express what Lance had done, what he'd risked and sacrificed just to save her. He'd given up his life to save hers. What did you say to someone like that?

Luckily, he seemed to understand her hesitation and raised his hand so that it was pressed against hers through the tank.

"We're a team," he said. "We look out for each other. Even if we don't always get along."

It took her a moment, but eventually she closed her eyes and nodded. She leaned forward until her forehead touched the glass softly, and murmured,

"Thank you, Lance."

"Yeah...you too."

She was starting to understand what Hunk had meant about him.

 

* * *

 

By the time their second day came to an end, Lance's voice was almost back to normal and Pidge had only gotten four hours of sleep. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to melt out of their sockets. Hunk didn't look much better, sitting across the small room all zoned-out and hunched over a stack of papers. His mouth was slightly ajar and there was stubble poking out of his chin. Her tired mind found the way he looked with a near-goatee almost funny enough to laugh at, but she lacked the energy to do anything more than hum as she rubbed the heel of one hand into her eye.

Pidge spared a glance down to the scraping programing she'd tacked together to search for errors and watched at the progress bar slowly worked its way across the screen. Seventy-seven percent complete, and still nothing to tell her what had gone wrong. She groaned.

"It _has_ to be in here... I know it is."

"Maybe you guys should just take a break," Lance suggested without looking up. Pidge shot him a tired look. He was lying flat on his back with his hips against the wall, legs moving back and forth in some mimicry of a snow angel. His heels knocked together and every time they met they made a faint ' _thunk_ ' sound that carried with obnoxious clarity through the thick hull. Over, and over, and over.

She took back everything from before. Having Lance around was awful.

"We can't take a break, we haven't found the broken code yet," she said. She sounded tired and miserable even to her ears. It did very little to inspire any of them to action.

"Maybe Lance has a point. We've been at this for hours... We could take a break. Relax. Eat. _Shower_ ," Hunk whined, tipping his head back against the wall with a soft ' _thunk_ '. "I feel like I haven't bathed in days."

"That's because you haven't, and if I wasn't sealed in an air-tight metal prison right now I'd be dying," Lance informed him. "You guys look and sound awful. Why are you even here right now."

"Uh, because _someone_ wouldn't shut up until we agreed to camp out here while we get this done," she said. At first, she'd felt bad about him being locked up all alone while they went off to work. But now it was a case of what was the least horrible to deal with: Lance's rambling, or his complaining. She was starting to think they were about even.

"Well how much longer is it gonna take? I'm dying in here. The boredom is actually killing me this time, I can feel it. It's slowly sucking away my life force, bit by bit."

Pidge rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, pushing a hand up under her glasses to rub at her face. "I don't know, Lance. It could be minutes. It could be days. But we can't stop until we find it."

"Well can you make it go faster...?"

Both Pidge and Hunk groaned this time.

"How about we just take five? Ten? An hour?" Hunk bargained. "My back's killing me. My everything is killing me!"

"No, Hunk. We've almost got it... I can feel it." That, or it was the beginnings of an ulcer. Either was just as likely at this point.

"That's what you said six hours ago...!" he said.

"I'm with Hunk here," Lance said, rolling over and picking himself up off the floor of the decompression tank slowly. He stood and Pidge found herself envious of the ease with which he handled himself, because of course he wasn't anywhere near as obsessed about this as she was. And even if he were, it wouldn't have made a difference because he was still stuck in a giant metal bubble for another half-week.

Apparently, he went through this every time he went out in his pressure suit. She couldn't decide if knowing that made him impressive or crazy, or both.

"Why did you even go and make changes to the ship in the first place?" he asked. "I thought everything on board was state-of-the-art."

Pidge checked the progress bar again. Eighty-five percent.

She looked back to Lance and found him standing with a mildly expectant look on his face, one brow raised. She wondered if he was actually curious or just trying to distract her again and decided she didn't really care either way. It wasn't as if she didn't have time to kill right now. It might even keep her awake. Maybe, in some grand twist of fate, he'd actually sit through the entire explanation.

"The _Derceto_ 's original sonar configuration was primarily for navigation," she said. "It makes a map of the ocean floor and tell us if there were any obstacles between us and it so that when we dive, we don't crash into anything. But it also recognizes the natural sounds of the ocean."

Lance cocked his head. "What, like whales and stuff? Dolphins?"

Pidge hummed and leaned back against the single cot in the room, tipping her head back so she could watch the ceiling. "Kind of. Everything down there makes noise, you know. Turtles, fish...even some shrimp."

"...Shrimp make noise?"

"Sure," Pidge shrugged, idly tracing the lines of tiles above her with her eyes. It made them feel heavy and she quickly stopped, wishing she had a caffeine shot. A coffee. Anything to make her feel less like a zombie. "Is it really that weird? All living things make sound in some form or another. It's all about knowing how to listen."

"Yeah...but they're _shrimp_. What could they possibly have to say?"

"Lots of stuff. Just because they don't think or operate like we do doesn't mean they don't have ways to talk to one another," she said, finally drawing herself back up and sighing. "Everything down there speaks. We just don't realize it."

Her dad did, though. His whole career had been based around the sounds of the creature she studied. By the time Pidge was in middle school, the clicks and bellows of whales and other marine creatures were as familiar to her as the top fifty charts were to her peers. She'd lived and breathed it, just like him. In another life she might've even taken up after him, joined him on his research excursions across the globe. Sailed the open seas.

She sighed wistfully and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Sooo..." Lance said after a brief pause. "What did you change then?"

Pidge looked at him. "What?"

"On the ship. Earlier you said that you were trying to boost the signal or whatever, right?" He nodded to her. "How come?"

Ah. Right. Pidge felt her toes curl inside her shoes and took a breath. She was surprised it took them this long to ask, but maybe that had been intentional on their part. They trusted easier than her, probably thought she'd come to them when the time was right. They were definitely willing to think the best of her; her blunder hadn't changed the way they acted around her at all.

...Probably. It was harder to tell with Lance. She'd spent so much time avoiding him that she really didn't have a baseline for what he was usually like, but so far, she'd gleaned he was kind of like a dorky mother hen. He liked to nag, but he was too much of a mess himself for it to have much impact. Usually, it made her crack a smile.

She'd already come this far though. And as soon as they found out what she'd done to overload the _Derceto_ she was going to come clean to the Garrison and Altea about it. There really wasn't much more for her to lose at this point. Worst case scenario, they thought she was crazy. If they didn't already, anyway.

"I was looking for echoes," she said.

They shared a look.

"Echoes...?" parroted Lance.

"You mean like when sound waves bounce back from a sonar scan?"

Pidge nodded and let go of her legs so she could pull one of the nearby tablets into her lap, tapping the screen a few times until she could pull up a holographic diagram. "Normal sonar functions one of two ways. You either send signals out yourself and wait to see what they bounce off of or listen for incoming ones. Most ships, including ours, always use the first because obviously you want to be able to see where you're going when you pilot a ship."

She tapped the diagram twice and a wave of sound spread out from the holographic image of the _Derceto_ , bouncing off a simulated rock formation and returning back to the ship. "It's actually pretty useful for finding more than just obstacles and stuff though. You can find schools of fish, see how far down the water goes, what sort of density it has—everything!"

Lance squinted. "Okay...that's super-fascinating and all that, but didn't you say you were after those echoes or whatever? What does that have to do with this?"

Pidge resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sighed. "I'm getting to that, okay? Here." She brought up a sound graph with one swipe of her finger and pointed. "This is a sonar reading from the Kraydah Trench, taken about three months into the original _Kerberos_ mission. The big spikes here show us where the sound waves encountered objects and bounced back. That's active sonar."

She didn't expect the myriad of sharp up-and-down lines on the graph to make any sense to Lance, but Hunk, she knew, would understand at least. He was already leaning up off the wall and looked marginally more awake than before.

"That's weird..." he murmured thoughtfully. "It looks like there's a lot of interference in there. What's with all the static?"

Lance stared at him. "How do you get _static_ from all that? It's just a bunch of squiggles."

"The spikes are supposed to be clearer than this," Hunk explained. "Usually you get a bunch of clean blips that tell you what you're looking at. But this is all cluttered. It's weird." He rubbed at his chin slowly. "I can see the original reading, but it looks like there's something else on top of it."

Pidge nodded. "That's what I thought back then, too. I did some fine-tuning to a sonar program I used and analyzed an older sonar graph without the extra noise, versus the ones the Komar was picking up and isolated the extra soundwaves into this." She moved her hand sideways and dragged the images apart, wiping away the sharp peaks until only the cluttered middle-beats remained.

"...Am I supposed to know what we're looking at here?" Lance asked. "Because I have no idea what's going on anymore. That's just more lines."

"No, it isn't," Hunk said, eyes slowly widening. He held out his hand for the tablet and Pidge passed it over wordlessly, unable to suppress the way her heart had begun to beat steadily inside her chest. She could tell he was starting to see it, the irregularity she'd noticed before anyone else, but far too late for it to matter. He knew exactly what the Altea Industries hadn't wanted anyone to see.

His expression was fixed and didn't move as he reached out to touch the hologram. "This looks like the default frequency for a sonar scan."

"Uh...yeah? So? It's a sonar map or whatever," Lance said, lifting an eyebrow.

"No, you don't get it. That shouldn't _be_ there. When you send sonar out you get the rebounded soundwaves back, not the original signal. They're distorted because they run into stuff. Pidge, what..." Hunk turned to look at her and Pidge held her breath in anticipation. He knew. _He knew_ , and she could barely keep herself in check when she gave a slow nod of her head.

"It's the same signal, broadcasted right on top of the rebound."

"But how...?"

"Ugh...! You guys, seriously! What's going on? I don't get what you guys are talking about!" Lance exclaimed, pushing his hands up against the glass. He looked utterly lost.

Pidge took back the tablet and brought back up the progress bar. Her heart pounded.

Ninety-eight percent.

"The Komar station was broadcasting and receiving a near-identical signal at almost exactly same time," she said.

"Which is impossible, because sonar doesn't work like that," Hunk said.

Lance frowned in confusion. "Which means...?"

"It means," said Pidge, "that something else made that signal. Something was talking _back_."

The progress bar finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: pressure really does do some [pretty funny stuff](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flYmFAe6OmU) to your voice.
> 
> Once again huge, _huge_ thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or kudo! Hearing how much people enjoy this fic always motivates me to try harder and churn out more. I really appreciate all the kind words and support.
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 **I'm still in need of a beta or two** , so if you're interested please send a message my way!


	7. Convalescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations, conspiracies, foreshadowing, and fungi. What more could you want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the end of the "prologue" phase of this fic and from here on will move into the real hefty stuff--so please enjoy! It's turtles all the way down from here :)

They decided to visit the admiral sooner rather than later.

"It's better to come clean myself than let them figure it out and draw their own conclusions," Pidge said. "This way we can at least control the flow of information."

Hunk remained doubtful and he could see Lance had some reservations as well, but ultimately it was her call. All they could do was support her to the best of their abilities.

Which was sort of how he found himself standing next to Pidge in front of the admiral in his office, doing his best not to fidget as the man studied them both with scrutiny.

"So, what you're telling me..." he said, brow arching skeptically, "is that all of this, this whole mess with the _Derceto_ , was caused by a tiny bit of _code?_ "

They briefly glanced at one another and Hunk fiddled nervously with his hands, stomach already in knots. He knew it was important to Pidge to be the one to tell them after everything that had happened, but that didn't make him feel any better about it. Nor being in a closed office with the one person that could just as easily seal their fate as he was to pardon it.

He had barely even seen Admiral Glaskow before being assigned to the _Derceto_ mission crew. Most of his experience with the man had been limited to official ceremonies or addresses to the Garrison at large. Six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and thick arms, Hunk quickly decided that Glaskow was much more imposing in person than on stage.

He gulped.

Hunk knew he didn't have as much to lose on this mission as Lance or Pidge did. His making the cut had been more of a fluke than anything else. He'd applied for the position, sure, but he had no grandiose fantasies about becoming rich or famous, no need to recover some terrible secret about his family's demise. Lance had more to do with his signing up than he did.

Hunk was just there to be useful, maybe get some once-in-a-lifetime experience. That it was with the two of them was just an added bonus.

Things between them were still a little rocky, but they were getting better. Little by little Pidge was starting to warm up to them. It still caught Hunk by surprise sometimes how much things had changed between her and Lance. An unspoken camaraderie of sorts had replaced their earlier awkward silences. Where she'd shut him out before, Hunk now caught her cracking careful smiles and grins; rolling her eyes and retorting back.

A selfish part of him wanted to keep that.

"That's right, sir." Pidge stepped forward and held out her tablet, motioning to the highlighted readout on its surface. "We traced it back to some modifications I made to the sonar systems before we left."

"And how exactly could something as simple as a _sonar imaging program_ manage to crash an entire system as sophisticated as the _Derceto_ 's?"

This was it. Sink or swim time.

"It's kind of fascinating, actually," Hunk said, coming up alongside her and tapping the highlighted script. "See, the program was supposed to map our environment and make a bitmap image of it for us, right? That's how we know how far it is to the bottom and stuff and what's below us. Only instead of doing it once every couple of minutes or so, it was doing it in _real time_. It just kept piling more and more data into this one dump file until the system couldn't handle the burden anymore."

His words came out rocky at first, but the longer the continued the easier it got. It was like all the tension in his chest was slowly unwinding, allowing him to breath and speak with confidence. Enthusiasm, even. Lance called it babbling, but Hunk was just happy he wasn't tripping over his words anymore.

If there was one thing he could feel reassured and calm about, it was science. Beautiful, wonderful science.

The admiral didn't look impressed by the end of it, exactly, but he didn't look angry either and Hunk chose to take that as a good sign.

"In English?" he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"The ship crashed because the sonar program made a file too big for it to handle _and_ run the ship's systems at the same time," Pidge clarified, standing up straighter.

"And this...issue," he gestured. "Why didn't it happen on any of our other sea trials?"

"We were never down long enough for it to become a problem," she said. "The issues we ran into with our first few sea trials made the dives too short to notice it. It was only once we stayed down longer that it started to affect the ship's PAC."

"Is there a particular reason these... _modifications_ of yours went through? I don't recall authorizing any changes to the ship."

Hunk glanced at Pidge. She stood stiff, hands tightened into fists at her back. She looked tense, and when she swallowed Hunk felt his own heart starting to knock around inside his chest. This was it. The moment they'd been psyching themselves up for. The moment that would decide her entire future.

She opened her mouth. "I—"

"—asked her to do it."

Hunk didn't look at Pidge when she turned to him in disbelief and kept his eyes resolutely on the admiral, doing his best to keep from shrinking under the man's scrutinizing look of bewilderment.

Glaskow slowly leaned forward and knit his hands together in front of him.

"I beg your pardon?"

_Keep it together Hunk, keep it together..._

"I'm sorry sir, I know I totally should've asked before and gone through all the proper channels and stuff," he said, bringing a hand to the back of his neck quickly. "But with Pidge missing all the training and all the trips Allura had us doing—it was just a lot. And it...sorta slipped my mind? Which I am super-sorry about, sir! I have all the proper paperwork and everything right here."

Hunk's heart was thrumming inside him as he pulled some folded papers from his back pocket and handed them over. How he managed to keep from trembling was a mystery, and he held his breath as the admiral slowly reached over and grabbed them.

The tension in the air was palpable and no one said a word as his eyes slowly worked over the documents.

"...This _code_ of yours," the admiral said finally, peering up at each of them in turn. "Has it been fixed?"

Pidge started at his side and nodded, wide-eyed. "I—yes, sir. We haven't tested it yet but—"

He didn't wait for her to finish.

"Do it." He dropped the sheets and waved his hand dismissively. "In a _simulation_ , preferably. I want that submersible up and running as scheduled. We can't afford delays at this stage. The world is watching us. We aren't going to fail a second time." Glaskow turned his sharp gaze back to him, and Hunk all but jumped out of his skin when the admiral said, "Garrett."

"Yes...sir?"

"Next time, you will submit your reports _before_ you go mucking around inside the equipment. Is that understood?"

Hunk gulped. "Yes sir! Yes, I will definitely do that. Thank-you, sir."

The admiral nodded sternly and slowly sat back in his chair. "Dismissed."

Both of them saluted and took their leave, but it wasn't until they were safely outside and the door slid shut behind them that Hunk finally let go of everything he'd been holding back and groaned in relief, arms folded over his stomach.

"Ohhhh it's over, it's really over. I thought I was going to die in there!" he wheezed.

When Pidge didn't immediately answer him he looked up, only to find her staring at him. He held up his hands in defense. "Okay, so, I know that wasn't part of the plan..."

"What was all _that?_ Permission to make the changes? Since when?" she asked, throwing her arms out. "You know I didn't have that!"

"Not at the _time_ , no..." He pressed his hands together. "But a little retro-active paperworking isn't going to hurt anyone provided those changes we made work, right?"

"That's not the point, Hunk! It was my screw up, you shouldn't have to cover for me just so I can stay on the mission. That wasn't the point of this!"

Hunk brought a hand up to the back of his head. He did feel a bit guilty for going behind her back about it, but he did sort of owe her one. She'd done the same to him to start this whole mess right? A little bit of friendly karma was warranted. For the greater good.

"Yeah...I know. But Pidge, listen. You have so much riding on this thing. I don't, not really. All the hard work you put in, trying to find out what happened to your family...that's big stuff." He shrugged. "Besides, it was kinda-sorta my screw-up too. You were in my office and everything and technically I think I should've caught you or something. Maybe? I dunno. Is that a thing? I feel like it is."

Like stealing something out from under security's nose. There was still punishment for the people on duty. He didn't feel especially bad about it or anything, but he was fairly certain the Garrison would've taken it a whole lot more seriously.

"Anyway," he said. "We're a team. We've got each other's backs right?" He offered her a smile.

Pidge looked like she didn't know whether to yell at him or hug him. She settled for sighing...and then elbowing him in the stomach. Hard.

Hunk wheezed.

"That's for not telling me what you're up to. Would it kill you and Lance to let people in on your plans _before_ you actually do them?" she said, but her features were twisted into something almost fond and Hunk found himself grinning around the pain.

"R-right...noted. Ow."

"Good." She stepped back and crossed her arms. "How is it neither of you can take punches anyway? Aren't you guys supposed to be big, tough Garrison guys?"

"Lance is the one who works out. _I'm_ an engineer," he reminded, rubbing his stomach as they started to walk again. He could still feel a dull ache where she'd struck him and couldn't help wondering how someone so small carried that much force. Hunk made a mental note never to never get into a real fight with her. She looked far too proud of what she'd done.

"Point taken."

"Thank you. Now please never punch me again."

"I make no promises."

 

* * *

 

  
It had been a very boring week for Lance, but it made discharge all the sweeter for him when he was finally let out of the chamber.

The very first thing he did was take a full, deep breath and stretch. After two and a half weeks of being treated in a cramped space, he was itching for activity. He wanted to _move_ , to run and spread out on bed as wide as he could. He wanted to eat a cheeseburger.

What he got instead was a one-way ticket to an examination room from two very insistent nurses.

"Oh come on!" he groaned. "Can't we grab a quick bite first? Maybe a sandwich? A candy bar!"

"You know procedure. Once you've been given the all-clear, you can go."

And that was that.

They led him to a plain-looking room with the usual: a single examination chair, some cabinets, supplies; a few chairs and magazines. There was, however, one key piece missing.

"Soooo...if I'm here for a check-up, where's the doctor?" He blinked.

"An emergency came up with the first-year trainees," said a voice from behind. Lance turned and watched as the nurses stepped back to allow a short woman with chestnut hair and round glasses to pass by. "Some hot-shots thought they'd get a quick buzz and tried to breathe compression gas at sea level. Doctor Samuels was called to oversee detoxification."

Lance tried his very best not to look too horrified. Breathing the air mixtures at their intended depth and pressure was one thing, but at sea level... Yeesh.

"That sounds...gross and very, very stupid," he said.

"Oh, definitely. I've been told to oversee your case while he handles that whole fiasco." She offered him a hand. "I'm Naomi Kim. Lucky for you, this should be fairly quick. Have a seat over there, if you would."

Lance did as instructed and plunked himself down, watching as she grabbed several empty vials and began to lay out labels on them.

"Take a deep breath and hold it for as long as you can," she said without looking over. "Then make a fist with your hand and keep it that way until I say you can let go."

Lance resisted the urge to groan at the thought of yet another blood test. He'd had so many of them at this point that his left arm was starting to look like it had chicken pox. It was covered in tiny pink marks, some more faded than others.

It was just one more thing he had to endure to get out of here, he told himself.

He inhaled until his chest was filled to bursting before he curled his fingers into a tight fist. When he sent a look her way, Naomi nodded.

"Good, just like that. I'll be right with you in a minute."

Unable to say or do much else, Lance gave her a thumb's up and turned his attention to the room itself as he mentally clocked off the seconds one-by-one.

It was almost completely silent aside from the ticking of the clock on the far wall and the sounds of paper being turned as Naomi went over his medical chart. But if he drowned all of that out and focused, he could still hear a very faint, high-pitched hum in the back of his head: the only symptom he still had left over after his daring (and totally heroic) plunge.

It wasn't the worst thing in the world to come of all that. It didn't even bother him most days. It was only when it was quiet, like now, that it tended to crop up. Supposedly, it would go away on its own with enough time. He just needed to be very, _very_ careful the next time he pressurized.

The sound of Velcro being pulled apart drew his attention and he watched as Naomi approached him with a large cuff. She wrapped it around his upper arm and gave it a few pumps, inflating until it squeezed hard enough that he could feel each throb of his pulse.

"Good, just keep holding your fist like that," she said.

He reached forty-five seconds in his head when she checked her watch and nodded, and if he hadn't been holding his breath Lance would've sighed with relief as she alleviated some of the pressure and grabbed an alcohol wipe. She dabbed at the inside of his arm until the skin was sensitive and the artery stood out against it.

He knew the next part would make him queasy if he watched, so Lance turned his head resolutely away as she withdrew enough blood to fill the vials from before and patched him back up.

By the time she returned and the silence continued to stretch on, Naomi had stopped to watch him. She raised a brow and Lance mirrored the look back at her in question.

"You're...quite good at holding your breath," she said by way of explanation.

Lance didn't answer because he couldn't. But the boast was right on the tip of his tongue; he smirked proudly with a puff of his chest and that seemed to amuse her. She took a few more notes on the clipboard and set the blood samples aside, before reaching over to grab a small medical gun and loading in a tiny canister.

"Alright, well, since you're still working those lungs of yours I'll just keep going," she said. "It'll pinch for a second but try to hold still."

Lance gave her a salute and waggled his brows, fighting back the urge to grin when her lips quirked. She shook her head, and all Lance could think was _score!_ —right before she stuck him in the arm and he jumped at the sharp stinging sensation.

He'd had a million of them since joining the Aquanautics Garrison, but he still hated it. It didn't matter how standard the protocol was, they sucked and everyone he knew disliked them just as much as he did. The last thing anyone wanted after coming out of pressure training was an extra pinch in the arm.

"That's for the nitrogen still in your blood," she said, as if he needed the explanation. "The usual rules apply: no alcohol for the next twenty-four hours, drink plenty of water, and absolutely no flying under any circumstances for the next week."

Lance finally wheezed and let the air out of his lung in one great whoosh, rubbing at his arm gingerly. "So don't have any fun, got it."

She hummed.

"We haven't even gotten to the best part. The doctors still want to monitor your condition for the next few days, so..." Lance craned his neck to watch as she stood and retrieved a folded white jumpsuit. "You get the onesie."

"No...!" he groaned. "Not the _baby suit_ , are you kidding me?"

She shrugged. "Sorry, no wiggle-room on this one. Doctor's orders. It's either wear the suit or spend the next two days under direct observation."

"Heck no! They've been sticking me with stuff for the last two weeks, I'm done with all that," he sniffed.

She held out the suit to him.

"Better zip up then. They're expecting you at mission briefing in twenty minutes."

Lance grumbled as he took it, frowning down at the slightly-thicker outfit and rubbing it with his thumbs. He hated these stupid things. They were restrictive and always made him feel like he was wearing an unused baseball glove. All of the functionality with none of the give.

An idea occurred to him as she picked up his blood samples and he fixed her with his most charming of smiles. "You wanna help me put it on?"

"Hmm, tempting," she smirked wryly. "But the onesie's a turn-off. Maybe next time, Sharkboy." She stood, tucking back a strand of her hair. "Don't be late."

Lance flopped backwards dramatically with a miserable sound and waited for her to leave before getting dressed.

A week ago, his biggest concern had been making it to this point: getting a clean bill of health and getting out of that chamber so things could go back to normal. Now he wasn't even sure he knew what that meant anymore.

He couldn't help but think back to Pidge, to the conversation they'd had that changed everything.

 

_Lance had been the one to break the silence._

_"What do you mean, something was talking back?" he'd asked. It didn't make any sense when he thought about it. As far as he knew, aside from the ROVs the crew had on-hand during the mission, there hadn't been any other submersibles with diving capabilities that deep besides the Kerberos. There wasn't anyone down there besides the original crew._

_There was no one else down there to make the sonar signal Pidge and Hunk were so hung up on. It was starting to creep him out._

_What Pidge had said next didn't help either._

_"I mean," she'd said, "that the only way that they could've received both signals at the same time was if something else was broadcasting the original back at them."_

_"But in order to do that, there'd need to be another ship down there," Hunk had said, concerned._

_Lance nodded. "And we all know that's impossible, unless there's something really big Altea's not telling us."_

_He watched Pidge purse her lips but didn't comment. She pulled up what looked like some sort of WAV recording (because no matter what either of them said, Lance did have some computer know-how thank-you-very-much) and played it._

_"The thing is, even when you isolate the two signals they're not quite right," she said. "Or, the reflected one is fine. It's the other that's not. You can hear it here. The pitch is off."_

_Lance pressed his ear to the glass and strained to hear anything, and then immediately felt foolish when he remembered that he couldn't actually hear through it. All sound came to him via speakers._

_Luckily, Hunk and Pidge didn't seem to notice._

_"I don't hear anything," he'd said._

_"I do," Hunk had said. "That's weird. It's like...it almost sounds normal at first, but then it does something weird at the end. Right? That's what you mean."_

_Pidge nodded. "That wouldn't normally happen in a man-made signal. Machines don't make variations like that."_

_"Wait wait wait, are you trying to say something living made that noise?" Lance asked, incredulous. "That's impossible! Right? No way a shrimp did that."_

_"It's not shrimp! Why are you stuck on that?" She'd given him a look. "It's not completely out of the realm of possibility. Beaked whales and even some sharks have been observed at depths of 3,000 meters."_

_"That's still not as far down as the Komar," he said. He didn't know the science behind it or anything, but he knew that anything that big with bones stopped showing up once you got that deep._

_"Yeah... I mean, what even lives that far down?" Hunk had asked._

_"Amphipods, fish, other invertebrates. Giant squid, sometimes."_

_"None of those use sonar, though."_

_Pidge frowned at them. "I know, okay? This is sort of my area of expertise. I know what it sounds like. It should be impossible. But the facts are there. Something was repeating back the Komar's sonar signal. Like it was...copying it. Mimicking it. It would explain the inconsistencies in the frequency."_

_Lance had felt the hairs on his arms prickle but suppressed the urge to shudder and said, "What makes you think something was mimicking it?"_

_"Because before the Komar went dark, my family found something. Or heard something, I'm not sure." Her face darkened then, a heaviness he'd never seen before settling over her features. She looked genuinely troubled. Intense._

_"You're not sure? How would you even know something like that? All the stuff from that mission's classified," said Hunk. The recollection of Shiro's face on Pidge's computer came to mind. It felt like forever ago, and Lance leaned forward._

_"Hey yeah, you had those videos from the crew before too!" he exclaimed. "What's up with that?"_

_Pidge hadn't answered them immediately, but when she did her voice was careful and controlled._

_"My family encrypted portions of their research and sent it up in the data streams from the Kerberos."_

_Hunk sent him a nervous glance._

_Lance shrugged, clueless._

_"Isn't that like, super-against the rules?" Hunk asked._

_"You mean, was it illegal?" She leaned back. "Totally."_

_"Okay, cool. Just so we're clear on that."_

_"What, you think half my family went down there with no way of sneaking messages back to us?" she'd snorted, and Lance detected a note of pride in her tone. "No way. We had the Kerberos satellite relay piggybacked before they even left the docks."_

_A thought occurred to Lance._

_"Wait, does that mean you know what really went on down there? With everything? Did they send you messages before, um, you know..." He trailed off lamely, quickly losing steam when he realized what he'd been asking._

_She spoke before the apology could even form on his lips._

_"No. The way we sent messages and data wasn't...it wasn't always reliable. There were gaps sometimes. Days, weeks. Sometimes longer." She took a breath. "The last message I got from them was two months before the station officially went dark. All it said was that they found something down there. They needed to leave. But they never got the chance."_

_She looked up at them, eyes dead-set and firm._

_"Whatever it is that made that sonar...it's related. And I'm going to find out what it is."_

 

That had been a week ago.

Lance's mind was still reeling. There were so many questions left unanswered: What was responsible for the strange echoes? How much did Altea know about it? Did they realize what they'd found and try to cover it up? Had the crew really found something down there...?

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't come up with an explanation. It just seemed so...implausible. How could anything sophisticated enough to mimic a ship's frequency exist down there in the first place, let alone survive?

It sounded like something out of a science fiction novel.

There wasn't much they were going to be able to find out on land though. All of Pidge's answers were hundreds of miles away at the bottom of the ocean, and if she wanted to find any of them, they had to get there first.

That meant getting this show on the road.

It didn't take him long to make it to the briefing room after he'd tugged some proper clothes on over the biorhythm suit. Everyone was already sitting when he arrived, but the moment he walked in the door they all leapt to their feet.

"Lance—!" Pidge and Hunk were the first to rush over to him, and he grinned when he found himself embraced on both sides.

Allura was next to approach with Coran at her side. "It's good to see you up and about," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? Glad to be out. It was starting to feel cramped in there. I'm never going to complain about the size of my dorm room again," he joked.

"You gave us quite the fright there for a bit," Coran said. "It's good to have you back!"

"Glad to be back, trust me." He grinned. "So? What's this meeting about? Nurse made it sound pretty important."

"I'm not sure what your nurse had to say on the matter of your mission," she said, amused, "but it is something that cannot wait. Please, have a seat."

They all returned to their chairs and Lance took up an open one next to Pidge, something happy and relieved bubbling inside him when she flashed him a look that could only be described as fond. A little weary, maybe, but...good. He returned it.

"As you're all aware, due to our recent...setbacks, we've had to change our schedule leading up to launch," Allura said, sending them an apologetic glance. "We've been doing what we can to keep what occurred during sea trials quiet. So far it seems we've been successful, but it is imperative that we press on as quickly as possible."

She turned to Pidge. "It is my understanding that we've located the issue with the _Derceto_ vessel, correct?"

"Yep," she nodded. "We just need to run it a few times to make sure it's working before we test it in the field."

"Good. Make that your top priority. We're already behind as it is and we cannot have any further delays without revealing what's happened at large. I know how that sounds, and I wish it weren't the case, but..." A troubled expression came over her, and not for the first time Lance wondered what sort of pressure she was under to make sure things succeeded.

He thought back to the gala, to Lotor and the business card tucked in the pocket of his suit.

"We must continue the mission as planned," she said, folding her hands together. "You will have Altea Industries' full support with anything you need to be ready and prepared by final launch."

"But what about all those interviews and stuff you wanted us to do?" Hunk asked. "If we're gonna be here fixing up the ship, what's going to happen to all that?"

"About that." Allura turned, and when her gaze settled on him Lance felt his pulse speed up in anticipation. "Since it will be quite some time before you're able to engage in any pressure-based training, it has been...suggested to me that we have Lance handle being the face of our mission while we regroup our forces."

Lance felt his entire face break into a grin. "Wait, you serious? You want me up there?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Normally I would be more inclined to ask Pidge because of her history with the mission, but..."

Lance held up a hand, shoulders squared. "Say no more, Princess! I get it, just leave it to me. I'll woo those crowds and have everyone cheering us on in no time."

"'Princess'...?" She looked bewildered, and Lance thought it was a good look on her. Along with everything else.

Hunk, however, groaned. "Just ignore him, he gets like that sometimes. Are you sure you don't need our help? I'm sure we can find some time to squeeze stuff in."

Allura smiled and shook her head. "No, thank you. I do appreciate the offer. Please make your focus the ship. We have much to do and I'm afraid the repairs to its interior will take some time. I'll need as many hands on deck as possible in order to pull this off."

"Besides, Lance is all about those _one-on-ones_ ," Pidge smirked. "He'll be fine."

Lance felt his face heat up at the reminder. "That was a total misunderstanding okay...! I was trying to apologize to you back then!"

"What, by flirting with that assistant? That definitely turned out well for you."

"Hey! Her employer was _totally_ impressed by me! He was super-interested in all my cool dives and junk!"

"Whatever the case," Allura broke in, "for the time being we will have Lance handle all further interactions with the press. Everyone else will remain on task here at the Garrison until we set sail."

Lance gave a fist pump. He saw Pidge roll her eyes and Hunk sighed, but it did nothing to quell the excitement building inside his chest at the thought of heading back into the limelight after two weeks of medical-based imprisonment. He didn't even care that the rest of the briefing had very little to do with him; the thought of being about to go out and _do_ something was enough to put him in a good mood all through to the end of the meeting.

He was stopped from leaving alongside Pidge and Hunk when Allura put a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Lance...could I have a moment? It won't take long."

Lance sent a glance back to his crew members and they shrugged, so he nodded.

"Yeah, alright... I'll catch up with you guys in a bit!"

"Sure. We'll meet you in Hunk's lab when you're done."

They gave one last wave that he returned, and then he turned back to Allura with a bright smile that she did not return.

Lance blinked.

"Uh...Allura? You okay?"

He watched as she brought her hands together, like she didn't quite know where to begin. Coran stood just off from her side with a similar expression and Lance felt his earlier high begin to recede as worry took its place.

"Coran? Come on guys, what's with those looks? You're kinda freaking me out here. Is something wrong?"

"No!" Allura said quickly. "No, it's just..."

"We're just concerned is all," Coran supplied. "And not just about the mission. It is a big part of it, but we couldn't help but notice that you've garnered the interest of certain...well. Certain individuals."

Well that was vague. Lance didn't know what the heck what was supposed to mean, and it must've shown because Allura let out a breath and looked at him, brow creased with worry.

"That employer you were approached by, at the gala."

"What, you mean Lotor?" Lance blinked, willing his stomach not to twist with embarrassment at the memory. "What about him?"

"He was the one who suggested you take the front for our press releases."

"Seriously? That guy? Man, I thought he was just trying to sweet-talk me!" Lance said, trying to play it off. "I didn't know I made that big an impression with him." He'd sort of hoped he hadn't, after the turn things had taken.

"Apparently you did," said Allura, her expression grim. "And trust me when I say that is not necessarily a good thing. Lotor is an incredibly cunning individual. If he has taken an interest in you, it means he wants something."

Lance's brows lifted. "We had, like, one entire conversation together. And I'm pretty sure I was drunk for half of it," he said. He couldn't see what Lotor would want that Lance hadn't already tried to offer, as much as it pained him to admit it.

"Did he say anything to you? Anything at all that stood out," she pressed. Lance rubbed at the back of his neck.

"No...? He gave me his business card though. Told me to call him if I needed anything."

"That's it? There was nothing else?"

He shook his head. "Not that I know of. Seriously, we didn't talk about anything except how awesome I was. Honestly? I figured he was just one of your bigwigs trying to flatter me up for an inside-peek on the mission."

That seemed to surprise her. "My...what?"

"You know, those guys on the board or whatever." Lance shrugged. "Or maybe some rich dude's son."

Coran and Allura shared a glance.

"Lance..." Coran began. "Lotor doesn't work for Altea Industries. He's the prime liaison for the Galra Mining Corporation."

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, they were right.

The very first thing Lance did when he got back to his room was frantically turn out every pocket on his suit until he found the crumpled business card. And just like they said, it listed Lotor as an employee of Galra Corp. Not Altea like he'd assumed.

That made even less sense to him than the talking shrimp. Why would someone from Galra Corp be interested in _him?_ He'd never met anyone who worked for them besides Lotor, hadn't even heard of them beyond all the stuff in the news. It never painted them in a very positive light.

They were always the subject of some controversy or another, whether it was the exploitation of natural land for profit or their assimilation of other mining companies. From what he could tell they already had a huge foot in the industry.

When he brought it up with the others Pidge stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Well yeah, obviously I knew that!" she said. "You didn't? Why do you think I was so annoyed you went off with him in the first place? My brother used to work for those jerks before the _Kerberos_ mission. He hated it."

Hunk stared. "Whoa, really? That's nuts."

"Well, he _was_ a geological engineer. He thought he might be able to change the way they did things if he got involved." She snorted. "It didn't pan out, so he quit."

"Why am I the only one who doesn't know this?" cried Lance, throwing his arms out. "This is stuff I need to know!"

"How do you _not_ know something like this though? Everyone knows who Lotor is."

"Everyone but Lance," Hunk added helpfully. Lance sent him a scowl, the traitor. "He didn't realize you were related to the _Kerberos_ crew the first time we met, even with the last names."

"Holt is a very common last name...! We went to school with a Holt!"

"Oh yeah..."

Pidge sighed. "You're unbelievable. How did you make it this far in life without knowing such basic information?"

"Hey...! I know lots of stuff!"

"Lance has always been all about diving," said Hunk. "He actually comes from this _super-hick_ town in the middle of nowhere and everyone there's totally into fishing and free diving and stuff."

"Excuse you, it is _not_ in the middle of nowhere! Beja is big enough to be a city now!" he said, affronted. It didn't matter if it had only recently gained that kind of status. They'd had a mall and movie theatres there for years even before he'd left for the Garrison. _It counted_.

"Beja?" She squinted. "I've never even heard of that before, where is that?"

"It's on the coast of Sol," he grumbled. "And it's _not_ a hick town."

"That's halfway across the world from here." Pidge shot him a surprised look and Lance huffed, crossing his arms.

"So's Olkarion. What's your point?"

Lance knew it was strange for someone like him to wind up in a place like the Aquanautics Garrison. He wasn't exactly the best of the best when it came to academics like Pidge or Hunk; he hadn't ridden there on a scholarship or other such golden opportunity. His grades had been above-average enough to qualify him for the interview and physical, but that was it. In the end it was a good impression and a set of nice, healthy lungs that had won him his spot.

He'd even paid for most of his tuition himself, after years of saving every spare credit he could afford, all his birthday and holiday money, every bit earned from summer after summer of grueling work in the hot sun on the local docks.

It'd been a veritable hell, but he'd done it. He'd never seen his parents look more proud than when he'd gotten his acceptance letter and run all the way across town to tell them.

It wasn't exactly a charity or rags to riches story, but it was his. And—

"Lance saw one of the ads Shiro was in before the _Kerberos_ mission," Hunk said, cutting his train of thought off. He wore a conspiratorial grin that had Lance blanching. _No_. He _wouldn't_. "You know, the ones promoting the Garrison program? Lance had posters of him _all_ over the dorm in our freshman year."

He did.

"Dude...!"

"What? You did! It was the cutest hero crush ever," said Hunk. "All he'd ever talk about was how many dives he'd done and what records he set. He had them _memorized_. Date, time, place."

Pidge lifted a brow. "Wow."

Lance groaned and dragged his hands down his face. "Can we not talk about this? Please? That was years ago!"

Hunk leaned over to Pidge and whispered, "He still has one of them above his bed."

" _Hunk_!"

First chance he got, Lance swore Hunk was going overboard.

"How old are you again?"

Right after he finished shooting eye lasers at Pidge for that comment.

"The guy literally set every record we have in the book for deep diving and pressure training while he was here!" he said, throwing his arms out. "No one's even come close to breaking them except yours truly and like, one other person! He's a legend!"

"Hmm...you know, you're right Hunk. Sounds like a crush to me," she said thoughtfully. Like he wasn't standing right there in front of them, totally offended.

"Told you."

"This crew sucks and you guys are both the worst."

"But we grow on you," said Hunk.

"Like—"

Lance didn't wait for them to finish and clapped his hands over his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand there we go! The last chapter of the "prologue" of this fic. From here on things will move a lot more towards that "bifishual awakening" tag I plopped in there so look forward to that!
> 
> A bajillion thanks goes out to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or kudo last chapter. They all meant so much to me and I love reading each and every single one. It means a lot to me that people have enjoyed this story up to this point, so thank you very much!
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3


	8. Permutation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a dive into the depths. One that yields more than expected.

Despite the warnings from all sides of their mission's team, Lance found that he saw very little of Lotor over the next several weeks. As in, he didn't see the guy at _all_. He never showed up to any of the press releases, didn't make any appearances at his interviews, and never visited the Garrison while Lance was there. Heck, he hadn't even gotten so much as a phone call from the guy.

It was all rather bizarre, in that it...wasn't, if that made any sense at all. He hadn't had any contact with Lotor since the gala so technically nothing had actually changed. And honestly? There were more important things for him to do than constantly worry over a guy that was never around.

As the weeks passed and the date for launch drew nearer and nearer, Lance lost all thought of the man in lieu of making preparations. The minute he was cleared to begin pressure training anew and get back into his workout routine, Lance dove right in, so to speak. He had two more check-ups with Naomi that all went well; his tests revealed that he'd bounced back from depressurization even faster than they'd thought.

He still got the boosters though, much to his dismay.

"You know that once you're down there you're going to need to administer them yourself, right? Or have one of your teammates do it," said Naomi, amused. "One shot after every dive."

He fixed her with a look of intense displeasure. "You know, if I didn't know you better I'd say you were enjoying this."

Naomi smiled pleasantly. "Oh, I definitely am."

"When is Dr. Samuels coming back again?" he asked dryly.

"And to think you were always so happy to see me before," she sighed in dismay. "What happened to us, Lance?"

He crossed his arms. "You sticking me with a billion needles."

"Say what you want, you're going to miss me when you're gone."

And the funny thing was, she was right. When they finally set sail and he'd gone in for the first of his mid-voyage check-ups, he was confused for a moment when the ship's physician showed up instead of her.

He made a mental note to shoot her a text before they went down for real (because naturally, he'd gotten her number).

It was so surreal to him. It was _really happening_.

Pidge and Hunk had fixed the _Derceto_ 's programming. The techs had fixed up all the fire damage to the interior. Their last round of sea trials had gone off without a hitch and they'd cleared their target depth of 7,800 meters. They were mere days away from their drop zone in the South Marmora.

Everything was coming together. It felt like a bizarre children's story come to life.

Lance spent half his time vibrating with excitement, unable to keep still or calm down, and the other half in a dazed trance, asking Pidge or Hunk to pinch him and prove that it wasn't all just a dream.

"I just can't believe it," he said one evening, sprawled out across Pidge's bed with his head tipped back over the edge. "We're doing it. We're _actually doing it_. We're going to make history. I'm going to be famous." A blink. "More famous, y'know..."

He didn't even care that the look Pidge sent him when she looked up from her laptop was entirely flat.

"All those daytime pieces really went to your head huh? Is there even room for anything else in there now?"

"Ah, just let him have it," Hunk said. He was fiddling with some sort of scanner; Lance hadn't been paying attention when he explained it earlier. "This is a dream come true for him. Right Lance?"

He nodded dumbly. "I've been working towards it my whole life. And it's gonna happen in a week. A _week_ you guys. We're going to live at the bottom of the ocean!"

"You mean we're going to try," Pidge reminded wryly. "We still need to see what kind of condition the Komar is in. We don't know how much of it is still standing down there. And even if it isn't totally destroyed, we need to figure out what caused the blackout before we actually set up shop."

Lance stared at her for several long moments.

"You are such a party pooper, Pidge."

"'Party pooper'? Are you sure you're an adult?"

"Come on guys," Hunk sighed. "Let's just all be excited! We're doing it! The thing! All of us. Together. That's _good_."

Lance moved onto his stomach and folded his arms underneath him with a huff. "Pidge is the one being a Negative Nancy, not me."

"I'm just being realistic. Haven't you ever heard the saying about counting your eggs before they hatch?"

"Nah, all I got was ocean metaphors." Fishing village life, etc. Lance shrugged. "I'm just excited okay! Aren't you? This is it! You're really going down there. You're gonna pop this whole thing wide open and expose the _Kerberos Conspiracy_."

When Pidge couldn't help but snort, Lance grinned in triumph.

"I told you, we're not calling it that," she said.

He hummed. "Mm, I specifically remember holding a democratic vote on that. Two-versus-three, majority rules."

Pidge groaned, pushing a hand up under her glasses to rub her eyes.

"Fungus?"

Lance nodded sagely. "Fungus."

"Gross," Hunk supplied helpfully, going back to his scanner.

The unspoken conversation passed between them as easily as breathing and Lance couldn't help the swell of delight that flushed through his chest, expanding and filling it with warmth. Things had changed so much their first meeting three months ago. Back then he wouldn't have even considered the possibility of a moment like this between them. Even after airing everything out in the open Pidge had been tentative, slow to trust.

But somewhere along the way, between coffee deliveries following numerous all-nighters and hilariously failed attempts at catching up on safety drills, between meals where she'd shown up late and they'd saved her a seat, Pidge had slotted herself between them like she was meant to be there all along.

When he'd screwed up with her back in that first briefing Lance had dreaded the possibility of having to spend a year down beneath the waves with a team in shambles. Now he couldn't imagine anything he wanted to do more.

Their arrival at the Kraydah Trench couldn't come soon enough.

 

* * *

 

They went over the plan once more the night before they arrived.

Everyone was seated around a wide oval table except Coran, who stood and activated the holographic display above it with a swipe of his hand. A glowing, scaled map of the sea floor came to life before them.

"As you can see, this here is a rough approximation of the area you'll be diving! We've tried to nail everything down as finely as possible using some of our own ROVs, but on account of all that pressure down there, the closest we've managed to scrape is about a line here, right at the 3,800-meter mark," Coran said, drawing two fingers across the image and highlighting the area.

"Luckily our imaging programs have given us a pretty good look at the abyssal plain and we've been able to determine that not much in the area has changed since the _Kerberos_ mission! It should be a straight shot right down to the Komar here." Lance watched as he tapped the image once, magnifying the area until a featureless image of the station popped up.

It looked like a bunch of spheres stuck together with tubes and reminded him vaguely of a hamster habitat. "So we drop down and scope the place out?" he asked, sitting back and folding his hands behind his head with a smirk. "Sounds easy enough. Piece of cake."

Coran lifted a finger with a puff of his chest, eyes glinting bright. "Aha, but that's only stage one of our grand plan! You'll need to run a full diagnostic on the research station, inside _and_ out. We haven't had any equipment or drones capable of getting down that far since the mission was lost," he said, giving a brief and apologetic look in Pidge's direction. "All ROVs at the crew's disposal were lost either before or during the communications blackout."

"Wait, I didn't hear about any of that." Hunk sat forward in his chair with a blink, and Lance copied him. "I thought they went down with the station when it went dark."

"Ah, yes, well." Coran scratched at his cheek. "Y'see that was a bit of an issue we were working on at the time. We're not quite sure why, but it seems that at least two of our drones went missing in the weeks leading up to the communications failure. The crew reported one lost on an excursion into the Trench itself, but another vanished somewhere in this area here twelve hours before."

He moved his arms and the image zoomed back out, focusing instead on an area north of both the Komar and the Trench's edge. Lance fought back the uncomfortable chill in his spine because _no_ , there was nothing to be spooked out over. ROVs malfunctioned or went haywire all the time. It was probably just a mechanical error that happened to coincide (eerily) with the rough time of a complete communications blackout.

There was absolutely no reason to think some giant, creepy, deep-sea monster had anything to do with it at all.

"What was it doing out there?" asked Pidge.

"Routine mapping of the area, four hundred meters or so out. Unfortunately, due to the issues with transmissions and communication down there we haven't been able to recover any of its data. Anything it recorded at the time should still be stored on its onboard memory though." He perked up. "Which is why that will be your first order of business once you've gotten the Komar all sorted out! Providing that by some miracle it hasn't completely collapsed, it'll still take us some time to get it back up and running. Until then, well, we might as well see what we can find out!"

He paused.

"And it also happens to be worth a, uh, somewhat sizeable small fortune. So there is that. Much obliged it you can recover it!"

Lance lifted a brow. "That mission really messed you guys up, huh."

"That is one way of putting it...yes." Coran coughed into his hand. "But we're going to sort all that out now! No need to worry yourselves with the fine details. Eat a big dinner and rest up! Launch is at o-four hundred hours on the dot."

All of them groaned at the reminder. Were they looking forward to the mission? Yes. Were they looking forward to waking up at the buttcrack of dawn? No.

But they did it. There wasn't much choice if they wanted to get into the water at all without knocking the _Derceto_ against the hull of the _Castleship_ and bludgeoning it. In order to safely lower the submersible into the water they needed a calm sea state and gentle waves.

Which meant that all of them wound up on the upper deck at quarter-to the next morning, sluggish and bleary-eyed and still yawning. Pidge's hair was even messier than normal and Hunk's eyes were barely open. Lance didn't even want to think about how he looked; his eyes felt like sandbags and his joints ached from a lack of comfortable sleep. His hair was definitely a mess under his toque.

The worst part, however, was how cold and wet the air was at this hour. A heavy fog had rolled into the area and it clung to everything. His jacket felt damp and uncomfortable, and Lance groaned as he hugged his arms tighter around himself.

"I thought this region was supposed to be _tropical_ ," he said.

"It _is_ tropical," Pidge grumbled beside him, nursing a Styrofoam cup of coffee. "But it's also four in the morning. Condensation is a thing that happens. It's wet and cold. Deal with it."

"You deal with it."

"I _am_ dealing with it. You're the one who's complaining."

" _Guys_ ," Hunk groaned. "It's way too early for this. We get it, everyone is tired and wet. Do we have to be miserable too?"

"Lance started it."

"Pidge started it."

"Oh look!" Hunk exclaimed loudly. "The ship! Let's go board it!"

Lance waited for him to move on ahead before he turned to Pidge and made a face at her. She returned it, and then went to follow after Hunk. Lance took up the rear with a huff and hugged his coat closer to his body.

The _Derceto_ was already mounted on its stand and positioned for crew entry by the time they arrived, hatch open and waiting. Coran and Iverson stood at its side, one noticeably more enthusiastic than the other. Lance tried to avoid looking at the latter.

"All ready and on time, we're off to a good start!" Coran greeted brightly. "Hope you're ready to shake off those sleepies and set forth. Everything's prepped and ready inside. As soon as you're strapped in we'll begin loading procedures. How's everyone feeling?"

"Tired," said Hunk.

"Cold," said Pidge.

"Wet," Lance whined. He would've complained about wanting to go back to bed too, if it had been anything but this. This was finally it. Their moment. They were _diving_.

Coran shared the sentiment. "Ahh, there'll be plenty of time for all that later! Up up up, up and at 'em you three! Look alive. We're going to need you at your best." He clapped his hands.

"Which means we don't want any screw-ups," Iverson said, picking up the slack and sending each of them a look in turn. "The world is watching you three. _Don't_ disappoint it."

Oh sure, Lance thought. No pressure there at all. _Geez_. The guy needed to relax. Take a vacation, chill out.

His words had the intended effect though; all three of them straightened with identical nods. He and Hunk gave reflexive salutes.

Iverson nodded once, his expression slowly giving way to something less intense and more solemn.

"Make it back in one piece, you three."

And then it was _him_ saluting _them_ and Lance could do nothing but stare, stunned. Maybe it was just because he was too bewildered to think properly, but Lance couldn't seem to recall a time when Iverson had ever done such a thing for anyone but the admiral.

A glance down their ranks showed Pidge and Hunk were just as surprised as he was, and Lance swallowed the lump in his throat quickly.

"We will sir!" he said quickly. "Um...thank you, sir."

Iverson grunted.

Maybe the guy had a heart in there somewhere after all. Huh.

Coran was practically glowing, barely able to contain his proud smile. "Let's get a move-on you three, we'd best get you in that water before it gets all choppy up here."

 

* * *

 

The trip down was every bit as awful as Hunk thought it would be.

Oh sure, nothing went wrong with the ship; everything there was just perfect. All of its internal mechanisms and programming were in tip-top shape. The same, however could not be said about his own.

Going down was not unlike taking an elevator that moved just a little too quick. His stomach felt light and queasy, and every time the ship creaked or groaned he bit his lip, fighting the tightening sensation in his throat. Nausea rolled off of him in waves and more than once he begged Lance to slow down.

"Dude, I _told_ you to take something before we left." Lance glanced back at him over his shoulder. "We have a schedule to keep! We can't slow down. Just hold it in."

Hunk shuddered, expression bleak. He was _definitely_ going to hurl.

"I've seen people get seasick while on boats before, but I've never heard of any getting sea sick from going down in a submersible," Pidge noted. She looked a little concerned, but mostly curious.

"I'm not sea sick okay?" he whimpered. "I'm motion sick. There is a very big difference!"

"...No, I'm pretty sure they're the same thing. One just happens on water."

"It's my sickness and I can call it what I want!" He was the one suffering here, he got to name it. That's how that worked.

Lance interrupted them both with a loud, exasperated sigh. " _Guys_. Focus? Hunk get it together and scan the area already. Pidge, how're we doing? What's our ETA?"

"Oh, right." Pidge reacted quicker to that than Hunk expected her to but didn't have time to dwell on it; she reported that they were only half an hour from the bottom with no obstacles in sight.

"And what about that freaky fish-noise of yours? Are we running that right now?"

"Wait, I thought we agreed it wasn't a sea monster!" Hunk exclaimed, standing up and holding the back of his chair.

" _We_ didn't agree on anything," Pidge said flatly, adjusting her glasses without turning around. "You guys freaked out when I mentioned it and said it wasn't possible."

"Because it isn't!" Lance said, just a little bit too loudly. Hunk didn't care. The sentiment was one he could readily get behind. Ix-nay on the underwater onsters-may.

Pidge just sighed.

"Whatever. No, it hasn't picked up anything. Nothing unusual, anyway. Just the usual chatter at this depth."

"Cool. Let me know if we're about to get eaten."

"Lance!" Hunk whined. He didn't care how pathetic he sounded; first motion sickness, now sea monsters. This was officially the worst mission ever.

"The faster you hurry up and scan the area the faster we can disprove her giant underwater monster theory," Lance said nonchalantly.

Hunk shot a look at the back of his head and glowered. Some best friend he was turning about to be. If they didn't get eaten he was naming Pidge his new best friend and then living happily ever after.

He sat back down in his seat and turned his attention back to the console in front of him, stubbornly poking at it with two fingers. The screen came to life and told him most of what he already knew; they would indeed hit their target depth in roughly thirty minutes, and according to their sonar map of the water, there was nothing but a shoal of bait fish between them and the rocky ocean floor.

It was mostly rock, mud, and sand at the bottom. No corals or volcanic formations this close to the Komar. The location had been chosen with that in mind.

"We're good," he said, sullen. "No recent geothermal activity in area and no major currents running through. We're going to land pretty much on top of the thing if we keep going at this rate."

"Roger that first-mate Hunk. Make sure we slow our decent about three hundred meters above target depth and approach slow."

"Yeah, yeah..." Technically inaccurate, but whatever. The title sounded kind of nice when he let it bounce around in his head for a bit. It also helped distract him from his nausea, which was even better.

It felt like only seconds later that he was releasing their trim shot to slow the descent and switching on the main floodlamps.

All around them the water came to life with light, bright and white and blinding. Or at least it would've been, if they hadn't been in a lit cockpit the whole time. It was probably blinding to everything else around them, which...was a whole lot of nothing, he observed. The monitors from their outside cameras showed nothing but vast stretches of empty, snowy water.

"Alright look alive guys, we're coming up on our target now," said Lance. "Two hundred meters until target...one fifty..."

Lance counted down to sixty before he started to trail off, and when Hunk spared a glance back over his shoulder he could see why.

Sitting directly below them, in all its worn and weathered glory...was the Komar Deepsea Research Station.

It lay beneath them like a series of oversized metal snow globes, each one almost seeming to glow under the _Derceto_ 's lamps. Its hull was weathered and stained from its time beneath the sea; greyish muck stained it in some places and most of the eastern side had been taken over by barnacles. It had a very shipwreck-y vibe to it that had Hunk suppressing a shudder even as his jaw dropped in awe.

"Whoa..." he murmured, pulling himself out of his seat. Pidge did the same until they were both gathered behind Lance's chair at the helm, staring down at what was possibly the remotest location on the entire planet. Only three people had ever been here before.

Now that number was about to double.

"This is incredible," Lance said. His voice was filled with barely-suppressed excitement; Hunk could practically feel him vibrating and didn't blame him in the slightest. Coran and Allura had said it was big, but he hadn't realized _how_ big exactly until just this moment.

The main dome was as big as the mess hall at the Garrison, and even if Hunk knew that most of it was thick steel, it didn't take away from the impressiveness of it all. If memory served, the largest dome was meant to be a completely self-sustained environment. Each of the four sections coming off of it were addons installed after the fact to supply additional capabilities to the facility.

There was 1-A, 2-B, 3...oh.

"Uhh, guys?" Hunk raised his voice. "I think we might have a problem here. Look."

He pointed to the west-most attachment, the fourth section added to the main. It was just as stained and dirtied by its time at the bottom of the sea, but unlike the rest, which sat as near-perfect spheres upon their foundations, the final addition looked like someone had taken it in their hand and crushed it.

The addon and the strip connecting it had been completely destroyed. The latter was so compressed and torn that it more resembled a twizzled piece of candy than a passage. There was no way for anyone to pass through it now, but luckily the station's design sealed off the main body and the damage remained contained.

The sphere itself was almost torn and twisted in half, now half the size it should've been. But unlike the stretch of path that led to it, it looked as though a portion of it had held out against the pressure; it was still connected to its foundations and appeared to have been cracked open more than squished.

"Holy crow... That thing's been demolished," Lance said.

Pidge said nothing, and when Hunk turned to look her expression was tight and grim. He laid a hand on her should in a silent apology.

It was one thing to hear that her family had disappeared down here. It was another to see it for herself, to consider the possibility that somewhere in there, maybe even in the station itself, might be their remains. What little there'd be left at this pressure after so long.

Hunk forced himself not to think of ocean scavengers.

"That's what four hundred atmospheres of pressure looks like when it decompresses instantaneously. If anyone was in there...we won't find much left of them. Even without the time delay," she murmured. She didn't look at Hunk.

He kept his hand where it was and gave her a small squeeze, and her lower lip trembled. For just a moment he worried that she might cry and turned to her, but she surprised him by quickly drawing a hand across her eyes and shaking her head.

"Pidge..."

"I'm fine," she said. "Let's scan the base like we came here to do. We can worry about the details after."

Hunk hesitated for just a moment, watching her. It was obvious she was holding a lot back for the mission's sake, but he didn't want to push her. He doubted he'd be anywhere near as composed if it was him in her shoes.

He sent a look to Lance and Lance nodded back.

"Alright. Let's get started."

 

* * *

 

Scanning the base took them less than an hour and revealed several things.

The first was that, predictably, there were no signs of life on board. The only biorhythms they detected belonged to organisms too simple and tiny to be of any significance and the rest of the ship lay as silent as the waters around it.

Just like the preliminary readings had shown, the entire station was without power. Nothing responded and all lights inside remained dark. The only way to see in was to shine the _Derceto_ 's lights through the portholes built into its sides, but it only provided a meager glimpse of the interior; a nondescript floor, tidy and bereft of debris. A supply crate with its lid partway opened. Papers discarded on top of a chair.

Nothing to give them any hint as to what happened.

From what Hunk could tell, only the western attachments had been compromised. The rest of the Komar showed no outward signs of wear or tear. All hatches were sealed and locked in place, and the interior (from what they could tell) was dry.

"Why did only part of it implode?" Lance asked on their second trip around. "If one piece went down, shouldn't it have torn the whole thing apart? Decompression like that happens so fast you don't even realize you're...uh. You know." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"It's a safety feature," Pidge said, and her tone was solemn enough that it drew both his and Lance's attention. "All doors seal automatically after you pass through them to prevent station-wide decompression. In the event that a section of it _is_ breached, all locks and mechanisms shut down and seal it off in order to protect the lives of anyone aboard. It can only be opened from the outside."

Hunk's brows knit together, uncertain as Lance spoke up.

"So...no one in or out unless someone from the outside comes to rescue them?"

She nodded. "In theory."

"That sounds more like a tomb to me..." Hunk murmured, unable to keep the uneasiness out of his voice. "You're just...trapped in there, with no way to get out. What if no one ever shows up?"

Pidge didn't have an answer to that.

They completed their next three sweeps of the station in silence before deciding they'd taken all the readings they could. It was clear that before they'd be able to do anything there, they needed to restore the power first. Figuring out the source of the blackout would likely be their next task once they returned to the surface.

"Let's head out and see if we can't find that drone for now," Lance eventually suggested, sounding as somber as Hunk felt. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when they came down, but it hadn't been this. The mood in the cabin carried a weight to it now, a seriousness that drove home the fact that it wasn't just some underwater adventure they were on.

People had died down here.

Pidge's _family_ had died down here.

Everything they saw from this moment on, everything they touched, would be the last the _Kerberos_ mission crew had seen before they lost their lives.

The notion was sobering.

Hunk took a breath. "Coran said the drone was out north of the station when it went down. From the transmission data he sent us, it looks like it was about half a klick out from here."

"Hmm...that still leaves us with a pretty big area to search," Lance said, doubtful. "If that thing's not transmitting then it's going to be a huge pain to narrow down. By now it's probably totally grown over or covered up."

"And this is why you have a sound specialist on board," said Pidge, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Take us up about twenty meters and then standby to launch Rover."

"Launch who?" Hunk blinked.

"It's what I decided to call our ROV," she said, cracking the first hint of a smile he'd seen from her in over an hour. "I know the AI on it is really simple, but he's a tough little guy. Plus 'ROV' has three sounds in it instead of two so it's more cost-effective as a name."

Hunk smiled. "Awww..."

It was kind of cute, nerdy, and a sentiment he could totally get behind. He liked the idea of having a little buddy floating out around there to have their backs, even if it _was_ incredibly primitive as far as its programming went. Lance would technically be doing more of its piloting than it would when it came to the really important stuff.

And speaking of Lance...

"Wow... You are such a nerd."

There was Lance, being _Lance_ about it. Annoying...but appreciated. The air around them shifted immediately.

"Just shut up and move the ship," she said. "This is going to work."

"Okay, okay, bossy... I thought I was supposed to be captain."

"Actually Lance, you're just the vehicles operator. We don't have a captain. It's more of a group effort," Hunk said, not one to miss the opportunity to poke just a _little_ bit of fun at him. Just because. Naturally, Pidge was there to have his back.

"If you think about it, you and I only have one official job on this mission. Hunk's the one with two. Technically I think that puts him in charge. Since he's got more responsibility."

Perfect, wonderful Pidge.

" _Thank_ you, first mate Pidge."

"Hey...! I thought I made you my first mate!"

"That was before the mutiny," Pidge shrugged. "Try to keep up. And take us up already so I can launch the drone!"

"What happened to 'Rover'?"

" _Lance_." It was both of them this time, and Lance made an exaggerated sound of defeat as he grabbed the steering handles.

"Fiiiiiine. Up, up, and away we go. A whole twenty meters. That's like...I dunno, two hundred feet?"

"Uhh...no. Not even close." Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. "Seriously man, how were you selected for this mission again?"

"Shut up, we use metric where I come from! I don't know the conversions alright?" He flushed, gesturing ahead of them. "We made it okay? Launch your tin can already."

Hunk didn't bother to hold back his sigh. He knew Lance wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but sometimes he did wonder. Fondly. Fond wondering if maybe he should be a little more concerned that they had someone like him at the helm, in charge of their lives at the bottom of the ocean.

Actually, scratch that. He didn't want to wonder anymore.

"Alright, Rover is up and running. How's the video feed look on your end Hunk?" Pidge's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he sat up straight, blinking.

"Uhhh...looks all good!" He was getting a clear picture of the water anyway. There wasn't much to see since there was just the _Derceto_ 's lighting to go off of, but a few clacks of his keyboard and he managed to pull up a couple of its other imagining systems, just in case.

"Cool. I want to keep an eye on the readings it picks up while I map the area."

"Didn't we already do that before we came down here though?" Lance asked, skeptical.

"We scanned for a general layout, sure." Her hands were already working away on the keyboard. "But not for composition. At this range I'll be able to tell you how much of our surroundings is mud, where the rock deposits are, aaand if any busted-down ROVs from two years ago happen to be buried anywhere nearby."

Her voice was nothing but smug as she made the final keystroke and sat back in her chair, arms crossed.

It only took a few seconds before her terminal beeped and Hunk had to admit, that was pretty dang impressive.

"Alright, looks like we've got some leads. I've got four potential sites that might be what we're looking for. I've marked them on your map."

"Copy that. Let's see..." Lance hummed. "Looks like they're pretty clustered except for that last one. Let's hit up the one closest to us and go from there."

He adjusted the throttle and the _Derceto_ 's engines hummed to life, bringing them into a slow crawl forward as Rover trailed behind. It didn't take long to reach their first target, a few minutes at most. Travel was steady with no ocean currents or plant life to oppose them. Hunk found it almost eerie how little there actually was this far down.

The ocean floor was mostly mud and sediment, and every so often bits of rock would jut up from below. Sometimes they were crusted with various filter-feeders, but for the most part it was just...barren. They only passed a couple sea sponges and a sea slug on their way to the first target, which unfortunately was about as useful to them as the orangish-brown growth of grime that covered it when they found the hunk of rock jutting up out of the seabed. It was riddled with veins of iron, but not what they were looking for. They carried on.

Their second potential turned out to be, of all things, a set of release weights. The panels were rusted shut from their time at the bottom and covered in a similar growth as the rock from before. Hunk found it a little surreal to be staring at what was very likely one of the many sites the _Kerberos_ vessel had risen from at some point during their mission. It was like looking into the past itself.

He wondered what they were doing when they released them. He wondered if the ship was buried nearby. He wondered if the crew ever had any inkling that their mission would both start and end here, at the bottom of the sea.

Hunk marked the location on his map for reference.

"Let's keep moving," Lance said. So they did.

Their third target was still fairly close, but farther out than the other two and took them longer to find. The abyssal plain was mostly flat but dipped in places and became uneven the further out from the Komar they went. Muck gave way to clusters of rocks that stretched for several yards and Hunk couldn't help blinking. It was oddly...clear. Clean.

He adjusted Rover's cameras and sent the drone in for a better look, the lights on its undercarriage coming to life as it slowly descended.

"That's strange," he murmured.

Lance called back to him. "What's that? You say something Hunk?"

"The sea floor here is weird," he said without taking his eyes off his monitor. He could hear shuffling behind him as Lance and Pidge updated their own monitors to mirror what he was seeing, but it was several long seconds before Lance spoke up.

"All I'm seeing here is a bunch of rocks," he admitted. "And I'm _pretty_ sure that's normal at the bottom of the ocean."

"No, I think Hunk is right," Pidge said, her tone thoughtful. "I can't put my finger on it but something about this seems...wrong."

"Right?" He was glad it wasn't just him. It was so strange though, she was right. There was something just slightly off about it, the way everything became so much less...murky. Even the water in the area was filled with less debris. "It's like, right here. See? It's all muddy and then it just...stops, all of a sudden. None of the rocks have that gunk on them!"

Lance perked up. "Hey, you're right... Those suckers should be covered. Look." Hunk glanced back to find Lance motioning ahead of them through the porthole window. "Back there we could see a little bit of the critters down here, y'know? But here, there's..."

"Nothing," Pidge finished, blinking. "You're right."

"Oh man this just went from weird to freaky," Hunk groaned, hunching back in his chair. "As if this mission isn't creepy enough."

"Calm down," Lance drawled. "Just swoop our little dude in there and take a water sample. There's probably a perfectly logical explanation for all this."

"Like what, some sort of bottom-feeding monster waiting to eat us in our sleep?" He probably shouldn't be so surly about it, but what else was he supposed to do? This was freaky! Horribly, horribly freaky. Did he mention that this was the worst mission ever yet?

Lance stared at him sardonically. "Actually, I was thinking something more like a downed ROV leaking fuel or hydraulic fluid into the water, but yeah. Sure. A giant suckerfish works too."

Hunk grinned sheepishly and pushed two of his fingers together. "...Oh. Yeah, I guess that would be just a bit more plausible."

"Duh. Seriously dude, just relax and take a chill pill. Scanner says we got twenty meters to go and then we'll be right on top of that bad boy." He sounded so confident Hunk couldn't help but want to believe him. It made sense, after all. A leak or a spill would've killed off anything as specially adapted this far down. Sudden environmental changes like that would have definitely devastated anything local. It was a much more logical conclusion.

It was also entirely wrong, and that became abundantly clear as soon as they neared the third location.

It wasn't immediately apparent when it started to appear; all the rocks on Hunk's screen were a dull black or grey, each bereft of residue. There was no color to be seen, but as the _Derceto_ continued onwards tiny flecks of white began to show up. Some of the stones became speckled.

...No, not just some of them, Hunk realized after a moment. It was only certain stones. Certain _trails_ of stones. The white dots followed a line of some sort, thin and sparse at first but growing thicker and more apparent the closer they got. Some kind of calcification, perhaps? Or a deep-sea fungus, or sponge.

He took Rover down for a better look at one that was nearly entirely white, focusing the drone's cameras as his eyes slowly widened. The white flecks were _moving_. Not visibly from a distance, but when he zoomed in he could see quite clearly that it wasn't any sort of chemical discoloration or growth.

It was alive.

There were hundreds upon hundreds of very tiny, very small spore-like stalks sticking up out of the rock's surface, soft and swaying and paper-thin. They were translucent under the ROV's harsh beams so he turned them down, trying to get a better angle on them. They looked almost like fine little hairs. Maybe some kind of bryozoan...?

"Heck guys, check it out," he said, not taking his eyes from his monitor. "That white stuff on the rocks. It's actually some sort of super-tiny organism. There is life growing out here! That's a relief huh? Guess we didn't poison the area by accident two years ago."

He waited several seconds, but when he got no reply he tore his gaze away from his computer screen and looked back. Both Pidge and Lance staring out the bow window. They looked like they'd seen a ghost and Hunk felt a chill run down his spine.

Neither of them moved.

"Guys?" he tried, uncertain. He unbuckled his harness and pushed himself out of his seat, slowly making his way over. "What're you guys...do...ing..."

He trailed off and very slowly came to a stop at Lance's side.

 _Oh_ , he thought. _That's what they're staring at_.

 

* * *

 

"What... _is_ it?" Lance asked, though he was already dreading the answer. He wasn't sure he even wanted one as he stared at what he could only describe as ' _The Thing_ ' growing up in front of them.

He didn't know why, but something about it just felt...unsettling. Wrong, on some sort of primal level inside him. Like the part of him that recognized when something was dangerous was clawing at him, warning him to leave whatever it was where it lay and _leave, leave, leave_.

And yet he couldn't obey that instinct anymore than he could tear his eyes from the sight. It was...mesmerizing.

The Thing was massive, a large sprawl of creeping, white thread-like feelers that seemed to glow under the light as it rose out of the sea floor. It was easily more than sixty feet tall, and yet if it weren't for the floodlights on the ship they would never have even known it was there. It looked somewhere between an anemone and a jellyfish turned on its head. The base was thick and dug into the rocks below like a series of roots, great tubes made of smaller and smaller tendril-like arms that knit themselves together until they disappeared into the sea floor.

The main column was wide and almost coral-like in structure. Instead of remaining stationary however, parts of it twitched, curling in on themselves towards the main body. It reminded him of some sort of bloom made up of millions of tiny jelly-like hairs that swayed and drifted slowly in the still waters. Not a single stalk was thicker than a thread. It seemed impossibly delicate.

Something inside his gut told him it wasn't.

"It...it seems to be some kind of organism," croaked Pidge once she found her voice. It was scratchy and hoarse. She sounded just as unnerved as he felt.

"It's huge," Hunk whispered. "It's bigger than the ship. It's bigger than my _apartment_."

"It's freaking me out is what it is," Lance said, curling his fingers tight around the steering mechanism. "Why the heck didn't this show up on our scanners?"

"I don't know," Pidge murmured. "I don't know, I... I've never seen anything like it before. It looks like some sort of siphonophore."

"A what-now?"

"It's a colony of animals that join together and live like they're a single organism," she said. "But they don't usually tether themselves to the ground like this..."

So yet another freaky underwater thing, Lance thought. Great. That still didn't explain what they were looking at or why it made his skin crawl, why he still felt drawn to it even as he ached to pull the ship back, away and out of this thing's sight.

Maybe that was it. That eerie sensation, that uncomfortable creeping in his gut that made the hairs on his arm stand on end. It felt like being watched.

"I don't think we should get too close to it," he murmured. "We should get out of here."

"Wait—wait, look!" Hunk reached past him and pointed down to his left, which was especially startling to him since he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of The Thing. But Hunk's exclamation managed to snap him out of it to follow the man's hand to a cube-like patch of rusted rock only a few meters away from the growth's base.

"Holy crap, is that the ROV??" Pidge appeared at his side and clung to the back of his chair, also freed from her spell.

It took Lance several seconds of blinking for the world to feel like it was back in focus, but when it did he recognized the oblong shape for what it was and let out a breath.

"Well...shoot. That's it." There was just one problem though.

It was covered in the exact same white tendrils as the growth. Not as much and not nearly as big, there was only a couple strands which stretched higher than a foot. But the sight was still chilling and Lance's gut instinct was to declare it unrecoverable and cut their losses.

Pidge was of a different mindset.

"We have to get it," she said, firm.

Lance balked. "What? Are you kidding? You can't tell me you don't feel the weird vibes this thing is giving off! We aren't going anywhere near it."

"We need the data onboard that machine," she said. "If nothing else we need to recover that. Even with...whatever this is. Let's hook Rover up, take a sample, and then analyze it back on the ship. Coran can decide if the drone's a lost cause then."

It was a good plan, but Lance was still loathed to put them anywhere near a part of it. Even from here he could see that a tiny network of white tendrils had woven themselves together into a root-vein leading out to the ROV. Like it had grown in that direction on purpose.

Like it was searching.

He groaned. "This is a horrible plan and I want to state that for the record, I am totally against it."

"Your distrust of all things aquatic is noted. Hunk?"

"Oh...um, yeah. On it. I'll just go send in our little buddy... Just going to have him poke the creepy zombie plant under the water, I'm sure that's fine..."

Better him than us, Lance couldn't help but think.

They didn't get any nearer to the Growth as they connected the two drones and initiated the download, but Lance still couldn't get his nerves to settle. The longer they stayed the more uneasy he became. If he felt like they were being watched before, it was nothing compared to now. He swore that the thing was _reaching_ for them, searching for something to draw into its silk-like clutches.

The moment the download was finished and Rover once more stowed away atop the ship, Lance pulled them back and dropped the weights. The ascent was instantaneous but didn't feel fast enough; his heart was pounding inside his chest as he gripped the steering and forced himself to stay steady.

It was fine, he told himself. They were fine. Whatever the heck that thing was, it was far, far below them. He checked the bottom-facing cameras just to be sure though, and felt his stomach turn to ice.

When they approached, the massive bloom had been drifting straight up into the current. But when he looked down now he found that was no longer the case. Sometime between their arrival and now its tendrils had moved, bending at the stalk as they reached out towards them like millions of tiny hands. They hung only a few scant meters from where the ship had been suspended.

Lance hadn't noticed.

None of them had noticed.

The terror in his veins didn't leave him until well into the next day, when they were safe above the waves.

 

* * *

 

_FILE: KER_23140428_160247.MP4_

 

_The ocean is dark and filled with shades of grey._

_Bright lamps are white and the rocks below are black as the ROV sweeps unhurried through the water, and unlike a time two years from now, they are filled with life: sponges dot the landscape and amphipods scuttle their way slowly over barnacle-encrusted rocks. Tiny filter-feeding worms peek their long, thin bodies up from beneath the mud and are nearly invisible in the ROV's lights. The water readings here are favorable; the flow of nutrients more than enough to sustain the specialized life forms which fill the area._

_Visibility only reaches five meters before it fades out but sonar imaging maps everything within a radius of ten with increased detail. The drone has been programmed to sweep the area around the Komar and it has another sixteen hours before it will finish its current circuit._

_Light flashes far off in the darkness, but the drone takes no notice. It has no interest in anything but the task at hand._

_The ROV pivots and begins to double back on itself, and this time light flashes again; brighter and bigger. Closer. A tripod fish is startled and jumps off the bottom of the sea floor, tucks its pelvic fins in and swims away rapidly._

_Rapid movement shows up as a blip on the ROV's sensors and it comes to a stop. Very slowly it rotates itself around to try and locate the object visually. There are more flashes, a series of them that light up in short bursts and strange arrays. They show up as bursts of white and grey to the cameras that whirr and try to focus._

_It eludes them._

_The water goes dark._

_For several long minutes, there is nothing._

_The ROV's camera rotates again, finds nothing, and then switches back to active scanning—_

_And then it is hit from above. Sediment rises in murky clouds as it hits the sea bed below. The video feed jostles, blotting out as the focusing lens tries to correct itself. Static crackles and the drone's fans pulse at the water to lift itself, but then comes a second blow._

_Black slices across the screen and flashes with blinding white, and the camera turns towards the surface as the ROV is forced onto its side._

_It records nothing but particles in open, empty water for five seconds._

_A flash of movement above. Something long and lithe and dark._

_The camera flickers off._

_..._

_..._

_On._

_A streak of white shoots towards the camera, distorted and blurred, and the last thing it records are jagged edges and a maw that closes._

_The feed goes dark._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, an image ref of _The Thing_ can be found [here](https://imgur.com/a/d7Nu8GN). If you want to know more just follow the link below to my tumblr for extra deets and facts!
> 
> Huge shout out to [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) and [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13), who helped beta this chapter. It would have been a mess without you guys :')
> 
> A bajillion thanks goes out to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or kudo last chapter. They all meant so much to me and I love reading each and every single one. It means a lot to me that people have enjoyed this story up to this point, so thank you very much!
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 I love answering questions or chatting about anything Voltron so please feel free to come by!


	9. Tabula Rasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glub, glub...

Lance spent a long time staring at the sample once it was brought on board.

It wasn't that he meant to or anything; he'd had more than his fill of the terrifying monstrosity they'd taken it from. And yet when he awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath and the image of hundreds of cold, dead arms trying to wrap themselves around his neck, the very first place his feet carried him was to the observation deck where it was housed, trapped and secured inside a three-inch-thick steel abyss tank.

He knew the fear was irrational, that it was just the fleeting remnant of a bad dream, but he still had to check. He needed to know that it was still there, that it hadn't escaped and wasn't slowly wriggling its way through the ship, looking for a host like some sort of parasite. The thought of it attaching itself to him, to anyone hovered around in the back of his brain, echoing words like _infection_ , _zombification_. _Killer fungus_ , like in that one documentary about ants.

It was stupid. He knew how marine life worked and he knew that there was no way it would last two seconds with the massive difference in pressure. It'd be dead in an instant, well before it could even move. Most likely it'd lose all form and shape and become a thin noodle of goo.

To Lance's immense relief the lab was empty when he arrived. No one else would be around to witness his brief little episode of paranoia. He exhaled and pushed his way past the door, closing it silently behind him. The overhead lights had long ago been switched off and as a result the room was bathed in a soft blue dim; ambient lighting from the three specialized tanks bolted into the floor at its center.

The light didn't travel far and shadows bled out on all sides, giving the room an oddly sterile quality. It was like walking into the arctic section of an aquarium, only Lance had loved doing that as a child. This felt more like the mad dash to turn on the lights after a bad dream.

Lance didn't, though. He left the panel of switches untouched as he made his way over to the smallest but most mobile of their tanks, a several-hundred-kilo cage of metal and glass meant to mimic the precise underwater conditions they'd discovered the growth at. The water inside was highly pressurized and cold, and when he reached out to brush his fingers against the glass they came away chilled.

But all of that was secondary and unimportant compared to the sight of three innocuous-looking strands of white buried into the sand at the bottom. They were like garden eels, tethered now to the bottom as they drifted lazily in the cold water. They barely moved and were so thin and delicate-looking they could have been the tiny arms of white jellyfish, if not for the eerie way they seemed to glow in the blue light.

Well, there he had it: the stupid thing was right where it was supposed to be. It hadn't escaped and wasn't trying to take over the crew of the ship. It wasn't forcing its way inside his body while he slept and eating him from the inside-out, because _yeah_ , that had been a fun dream to have.

Lance let his breath escape slowly until the pressure in his lungs dissipated and his shoulders began to sag. He didn't exactly feel any better, but at least the gut-clenching anxiety he'd felt upon waking wasn't filling him like a poison anymore. If he went back now he might even be able to get back to sleep and salvage a couple of hours before the meeting tomorrow.

"It was just a dream," he told himself quietly, rubbing a hand up his face and back through his hair. "Get it together Lance. It can't hurt you."

He almost believed it too, standing as he watched the strand hang immobile in the water. They didn't twitch or retract like the main growth had when particles or micro-organisms had drifted into its deadly net. In fact, if he hadn't seen the monstrous thing himself he might not have even believed they were one in the same. The same terror that had gripped him down below wasn't there as he studied them now. But even so, it was hard to draw his gaze away from them. They were captivating.

The longer he stared at them the heavier his eyes felt, but not with fatigue. He didn't feel tired, just sluggish; like he didn't want to move. Like it would be fine if he stayed and watched it for a while. If he didn't think about it too hard, it was almost nostalgic. Something about it felt familiar.

Lance brought his fingers back up to the glass and traced a line from the tip of one thread-like strand to its root and watched with waning focus as the very end of one tendril twitched. He exhaled, and the glass in front of him fogged up so swiftly that Lance was left blinking in confusion as the strands blurred out of sight.

It only took that one instant, that one brief moment where his line of sight broke, for Lance to see just how close he'd actually gotten to the damn thing without realizing it. Immediately he jerked himself back, wide-eyed and panting. He stared at a mark on the glass, a tiny imprint from where his nose had bumped into it. He'd practically had his face pressed up against it.

But worse was that when he looked past the fading condensation into the tank he could see that same little thread curved unmistakably towards the glass.

" _Holy frick_ ," he cursed, stumbling back. His hips hit the corner of one lab bench with a loud _thump_ and the instruments sitting atop it rattled, but the only thing he could hear was a high-pitched hum in his ears and the sound of his heart thumping away inside his chest. He needed to get out of there.

Lance turned and practically tripped over himself rushing back into the hall, hands smacking into the far wall. He didn't even spare a look back at the room; didn't try to close the door again or catch his breath. He just ran until his legs felt too wobbly to carry him any further and he dropped to his knees, gasping.

It hadn't been his imagination this time, he was certain of it. He'd really seen it. It _moved_.

What the heck was that thing? Why did it move? How could it survive without even being attached to its body? Why did it keep _reaching_ for him?

He felt more than heard the moan of mortification that escaped into his hand as he tried to blink away the spots that threatened to encroach on his vision. He needed to breathe; slow, deep breaths. In, out.

He thought back to the way his hand would've been close enough to touch it if not for the thick glass, and a wave of dread rolled through him. Not because of the terror he felt, but the utter lack of it. The thought should've reviled him and set off every warning bell he had. Instead all he recalled was that same numbing sense of awe. Captivating but disarming.

The ringing in his ears got worse and Lance winced, bringing a hand to his head.

It took nearly everything he had to force his limbs into cooperating so he could lift himself back up. The rush of adrenaline was still there, making him arms and legs feel jittery. It was better once he pulled himself to his feet and weathered the rush of blood that followed, but he was a sweaty, shaking mess by the time he made it to his room. He staggered over to his cot and yanked open the bedside table, grabbing the med kit inside.

Loading up the canister into the jet injector took three tries to properly lock it in place. Once it clicked Lance wasted no time in pressing it to his upper arm and squeezing the trigger. The shot hissed and he winced at the pinch of pain that followed, but as soon as it was done it was as if all the tension in his body left. The cold sweats stopped. The ringing began to quiet.

Slowly, panic and fear receded from his gut. His breathing returned to near-normal levels and Lance let the medical gun drop onto the bed as he ran his hands over his face and rubbed at his eyes until he saw spots.

Screw that plant. Jellyfish. _Whatever_. Screw studying it or observing it or whatever the heck the science team wanted to do. First thing tomorrow morning he was marching into Coran's office and telling him to get rid of it before it took over their brains and killed them. He didn't care that it was only three tiny hairs. The way it made him act wasn't normal. No part of that thing was safe.

It had to go before it did something awful.

 

* * *

 

When his alarm went off at six A.M. bright and early the next morning, the first thing Hunk noticed was that although he'd definitely gone to bed alone, that certainly wasn't the case now. There was a weight at his back that hadn't been there before, and Hunk sniffled blearily as he tried to roll over, only to be stopped by a thick cocoon of heavy blankets and an all-too-familiar mop of brown hair buried within.

"...Lance?" he murmured, catching the coattail of a yawn as he brought one hand up to his mouth to stifle it. The other man didn't respond. Still passed out then. Huh.

He rolled carefully onto his back so as not to disturb him and took note of the heavy bags under the other's eyes. The lack of a facemask was surprising considering he was pretty sure Lance almost always wore one to bed. A bad dream then, maybe...?

It had been years since the last time Lance had crawled into his bed. It had only really ever happened those first few months after they'd met and become friends. Lance had only just left his hometown then and found their two-person dorm empty after living most of his life surrounded by family. He wasn't used to the space despite how much he claimed to enjoy it, and more than once Hunk had been woken by the dip of pressure at the foot of his bed and embarrassed shuffling as Lance asked if he could stay for a bit.

Hunk had always said yes.

But that was all in their early teens and Lance outgrew the need for sleepovers well before their time in the Garrison. Whatever had set him off last night must've been especially troubling if he was going back to it now. He'd definitely been on edge since coming back to the _Castleship_. Heck, all of them had. No one expected to run into a giant sea anemone of death down at the bottom of the ocean. That thing was beyond creepy; he didn't blame Lance for being unnerved by it one bit.

It was probably better to let him sleep in if whatever it was had been enough to make him seek the extra comfort. Poor guy looked exhausted. Hunk's lips tilted into a sympathetic smile as he pulled back his covers and draped them over Lance for added comfort.

His own morning routine was much less elaborate than the pilot's but he still made sure to do as much of it in the adjoining bathroom as he could to avoid disturbing him. It only took a couple minutes to go through the motions and suit himself up for the day; he was halfway through closing his door behind him when he noticed Pidge approaching from her own room down the hall, one hand held over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

"Hey Hunk," she said.

"Oh hey, morning! You're up bright and early. Thought you'd wanna sleep in more after that all-nighter you pulled," he said. She shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep. The curtains here don't really keep the light out. Why're you being all sneaky with your door?"

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah...Lance is still sleeping. Guess he had a late night too?" He didn't want to come outright and just say he'd probably had a bad dream. Things were better between them for sure, but that was something more private for Lance. He liked people to think he was invincible and charming all the time. He'd never outright said he wanted Hunk to keep it to himself back in middle school, but he'd always sent him grateful looks when he deferred away from the topic in front of others.

Pidge sent one fleeting glance back at the door as they walked but didn't seem to need much more of an explanation than that. "Alright. He'd better not sleep through the mission briefing though, this one's important."

"You say that like he's ever missed a single one." Hunk rolled his eyes fondly. "Trust me, this mission? Is Lance's _life_. It's pretty much guaranteed that he'll do anything to make it down into the bottom of that trench and be hailed some sort of world-exploring hero."

"Ugh...yeah, that does sound like Lance." Pidge snorted. "Think we should save him a plate at breakfast? They stop serving at eight."

"...That's probably a good idea, yeah."

And it was. Lance didn't come staggering his way into the cafeteria until well past nine and most of the crew had long since cleared out. He was especially grateful for the sports drink Hunk made sure to grab him in lieu of coffee; Lance liked the pick-me-up but needed the water retention more than an early-morning buzz if a dive came up.

He looked better with a meal in him when they made their way over to the meeting room, but he still seemed pretty subdued compared to how Hunk was used to seeing him.

"You okay man?" he asked, hanging back a little when they reached the door. "You seem a little...y'know. Off." He stressed the last word for emphasis, glancing over at Pidge as she sat down, a clear indicator of what he wasn't saying, but Lance just offered him a weak smile.

"Yeah... Sorry about, um, last night. I should've asked or something but I didn't want to wake you up. I know you've been really busy getting the ship ready to go down again."

Hunk shook his head. "No man, it's cool. You feeling any better now?"

"Sort of... It's hard to explain." He sighed and Hunk couldn't help thinking he looked troubled; a shadow hung over his expression when he brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his head.

Hunk was about to ask him what he meant when a sudden, "Ahoy there, gentlemen! Up and ready to go I see," interrupted him. Coran had one arm raised in greeting and that same keen look on his face as he made his way over. How the guy managed to remain so peppy at any given hour of the day was beyond him.

Still. He and Lance exchanged wry smiles and a knowing nod before they turned to greet the man proper.

Hunk waved. "Hey Coran."

They made their way inside and took their usual seats and Coran wasted no time in clearing his throat to get things underway.

"Right! Hope you're all well and rested this morning, because you're in for quite the treat today," he began, that ever-present twinkle in his eyes. "I have good news...and more good news! How's that for a change?"

Lance perked up and sat forward in his seat. "I could use some of that," he said, and Hunk agreed.

While incredibly informative, their first dive down hadn't exactly been morale-boosting. Half-destroyed underwater bases and killer sea anemones attached to old drones didn't exactly inspire confidence. It already sucked enough that it was pitch-dark down there and the pressure was enough to vaporize them if it broke through. They didn't need any other horrifying surprises, thanks.

"Great! Because I have a lot of it. First off, even though we didn't recover the ROV itself like we'd initially hoped, the data you recovered from it is largely uncorrupted. It'll still take a few days to decompress and sort out, but we should have access to all of its readings right up to when it shut down."

It was Pidge who leaned forward this time with bright eyes, the beginnings of a grin on her face. "Seriously? That's awesome!"

"Indeed! The chances of such smooth data recovery weren't great, but it seems we've caught a bit of a break there. It'll only day a few days to get it all sorted. And while that's happening you'll all be assigned to the next bit of our good news," he said, switching on the table's holographic panels with a snap of his fingers. "I went over the readings you took on the Komar station and it looks like nearly eighty percent of it is still recoverable."

Coran brought up an image of the Komar, now updated to reflect the images they'd taken before. For the most part it was displayed entirely in a faint blue light, but the damaged section was colored entirely in red.

"The only part to be compromised was the one you see here, 4-D. Although we're not quite sure what happened from just the readings alone, the most likely cause was an error with the sealing system between the corridor and laboratory door here," he pointed. "Luckily the main station's safety measures kicked in and prevented a total hull collapse. The rest of the station appears to be entirely untouched and perfectly safe to board."

"Except for the part where none of it has any power," Pidge pointed out. "Do you guys have any idea why it went dark?"

Coran shook his head. "Not yet. I'm afraid there just isn't enough data to tell us what happened there. Our current working theory is that there was some sort of malfunction, possibly related to what happened to the damaged portion. Which leads us to your next mission: getting down there and finding out!"

Hunk paled. "Wait, what? You want us to go down there? You just said there's no power! There won't be any life support, how are we supposed to breathe? How do we even dock if we can't open the doors?"

"The Komar's outfitted with auxiliary power docking stations on its exterior," Pidge explained. "We can manually plug batteries into the outside, which should give us enough power to get inside and look around."

"Right you are, Number Three! It'll take some time to air out the station of course. So just in case, we'll be equipping you all with some low-pressure oxygen suits. They'll protect you from any gases or contaminants that may have built up over time."

It sounded simple, but Hunk couldn't help the morbid thought that it was more to protect them in case whatever had taken out the old crew was airborne. Like a gas leak or a disease or something.

"We will want you all to take several samples while you're down there, of course," Coran said. "Air and water for a start. If you could swab any surfaces you think the crew might've touched that would also be quite helpful."

"This is starting to sound less like good news and more like a biohazard warning," Lance said. Hunk nodded quickly in agreement.

Coran held up his hands carefully. "It's just a precaution. We still don't know what happened down there yet. It's entirely possible that one of the life support or filtration systems failed and that's what caused our crew to go silent." He sent Pidge an apologetic look. "I'd understand if you'd prefer not to go down this time around," he began, but Pidge cut him off.

"It's fine, Coran."

"Um..." Hunk raised a hand slowly. "It might not be a bad idea. I mean...if they were inside it when everything went offline..." It wasn't as if there was anyone to recover them down there. The bodies would still be down there. They'd be long-decomposed after this long, sure, but...

"It's fine," she repeated firmly. "I know what to expect down there, you guys. I went into this knowing that. You don't need to tiptoe around it. They're dead. And they're still down there."

The three of them shared an uncertain glance, but it was Lance who spoke.

"Alright...if you're sure. You know we won't think any less of you if you need to sit it out at any time though okay? If it's too much or you don't think you can do it, Hunk and I have your back. Right Hunk?"

Lance didn't even need to ask. Hunk was already nodding even if the thought of touching remains of any kind made him want to cringe.

"Yeah, of course. Anything you need Pidge, you just say the word."

She sent him a stubborn, but grateful look. "Thanks guys. But really, I'm _fine_. Let's just go over what we need to do while we're doing there. The rest can wait. Coran?"

"Ah...right! If we're all agreed then, let's go over the first thing you'll need to do once you're down there."

 

* * *

 

There turned out to be a lot of things.

Getting down to the Komar was going to be the easiest part of the entire journey at a four and a half-hour round trip, which said a lot about what they were trying to do. Pidge was grateful that she'd caved and attended each and every single drill they could jam-pack into her short time at the Garrison after her absence. Thanks to that she was at least marginally prepared for the long process of suiting themselves up.

It was another early-morning dive like the last and she spent more than half of it listening for proper instruction because heck if she was figuring any of that out on only six hours of sleep. Lance was more than welcome to take point and make sure that no matter how widely they yawned or how sluggishly they pulled on each piece of gear, they did it properly and were ready when it came time to dive.

The drop from being suspended to hitting the water was as awful as she remembered it being, but the trip down didn't feel quite so long this time around. Hunk complained less about his stomach and Lance appeared to have a new sense of focus and purpose. He kept their course straight and simple and cut down on the majority of his chatter.

She caught Hunk sending him inquisitive glances, and when she caught him in the middle of one he gave an apologetic shrug and shook his head. So...whatever it was, was between them then. That was fine. It probably had something to do with the whole bed-sharing arrangement they had now. All signs pointed to him having spent the night again. She'd caught both of them coming out of Hunk's room earlier that morning.

They didn't act all weird about it though, so she didn't worry too much. They'd all been coping with the, quite frankly, utterly bizarre turn their mission had taken during their first dive. No one could've predicted finding something that monstrous that far down. Most estimates made the bottom of the ocean out as relatively lifeless on account of the immense pressure; scientists had assumed for years that nothing could survive it.

What a rude awakening the world was in for once they got back, she thought smugly. Just imagining the papers she'd be able to publish after this made her heart race with excitement. It was almost enough to keep her mind off of the true purpose of the day's mission.

The sight of the massive white globes was sobering as they approached, slowing their descent and switching on the floodlights once more. She took a moment to carefully check her terminal for any signs of life or unnatural bioacoustics nearby but came up with nothing of importance. There was nothing but the growth, far off in the dark to the north, and a school of bait fish some two thousand or so meters above.

No sea monsters, no echoes.

Pidge let out a sigh and tried to ignore the sense of impatience and disappointment that followed. There had to be something down here capable of producing those signals. It couldn't have just been that growth.

"Alright," said Lance, pulling her from her thoughts. "Komar Station, dead ahead. Which side are those battery ports on again Pidge?"

"Main hub, south-east. It looks like it's right above the main support."

"Copy that. You ready with that manipulator arm Hunk?"

"Yep! Armed and ready, heh. Get it? Because it's an arm?"

Pidge snickered loudly and leaned back to slap him with a high-five as Lance groaned and turned the ship around. He might not appreciate the fine nuance of a good pun, but she certainly did.

"Nice one, Hunk." She grinned.

He preened. "Why thank-you. It's nice to finally have someone around who understands humor."

"You guys are the worst," Lance told them with a shake of his head. "Time to look alive, you're up, Hunk."

"Gotcha. Now let's see here..." Hunk turned his attention quickly back to his controls and Pidge continued to muffle her snickers, switching over to video feed so she could watch as the starboard science door slowly opened and a long robotic arm folded down and out.

It was heavy and slow as it reached into the undercarriage on the bottom of the ship behind the release weights and its claws locked down around the thick battery packs they'd strapped to it before departure. Unlatching them and inserting them into the docking stations built into the side of the base only took a bit of finagling to get them to lock into place, but once they did the change was immediate.

All around them the ocean suddenly exploded in a burst of illumination as the Komar's outer lighting systems sprang to life and filled the world around them with color. Suddenly they could see a hundred feet in every direction. Dark rock and sediment stretched out for yards all around them, and much to her surprise Pidge caught sight of a few filter-feeders, the half-foot-tall tubes of sea sponges rising up out of the muddy seabed. There was even what looked like a black brittle star or two located closer to the water intake valves on the underside of the Komar, slowly crawling their way through the muck, and for one brief moment Pidge couldn't help wondering if these had been the sorts of creatures her father had studied. If the same sea sponges she could see now were the ones he and Matt had been so excited to tell her about. The bet they made seemed like a lifetime ago now.

The ocean around them wasn't the only thing to light up though. One by one, each of the windows peering into the Komar lit up with bright yellow as power cycled through the building. A great groan echoed through the water as gears and motors long-inactive were suddenly jolted to life and began to move once more. The grind of metal on metal made them wince, but when it faded they all turned to one another and nodded.

Moving around to the other side of the station so they could dock at the loading bay was a simple, if nerve-wracking procedure given what they now knew about the portion that had collapsed in on itself. The threat of traumatic decompression was very real and all three of them held their breath as they heard the hatch slot into place and click, sealants and hydraulics locking steadfast beyond the cockpit door.

They waited for at least a minute to make sure the seal held before they all collectively exhaled in relief. Lance turned to them a moment later and gave a weary grin and a thumbs-up.

"So, good news. We're not dead. How're you guys holding up?"

"Nauseous," Hunk groaned. But that was nothing new.

"I'm okay," said Pidge. Lance nodded.

"Cool. Alright, suits on and helmets up everybody," he said. Pidge nodded and reached for the helmet strapped to the back of her seat, pulling it on and listening to the hiss of air as it snapped into place and locked tight. Hunk and Lance did the same, and the latter tapped his wrist to activate a small holo-display with readouts. "We've got twelve hours of power at full capacity, but we're only supposed to be down here for four so let's make the most of it while we can. How're your oxygen levels?"

"Green."

"Green over here!"

"Cool." Lance nodded. "Pidge?"

"It's a straight shot from the docking station to the main hub, but we'll have to pass through three pressure doors. According to the layout Coran uploaded into our suits, the main reactor is located in the maintenance shafts beneath the living quarters inside. So while you take samples, Hunk and I will head down there and see if we can find the engine. It won't be running right now thanks to the base's safety shutdown features," she explained. "Keep your helmets and scanners on at all times. If they start to beep, that means you've found either a radiation leak or some kind of toxic substance in the air."

"Oh, great. That sounds just peachy," Hunk groaned. "I thought Coran said this base _didn't_ have any kind of radiation leak!"

"Just because our preliminary scans didn't find anything doesn't mean there isn't," Pidge sighed. "It's just in case, alright? I'll be with you the whole time. Lance is the one stuck on his own."

"And I'll be just fine by myself, thank you very much!" he said, sticking his nose up in the air and crossing his arms. "I don't need any help collecting goo-samples."

Pidge sighed. "You're not collecting goo samples, you're collecting air, water, and surface samples. Do you have the vials and swabs?"

Lance held up a black kit in his hand proudly. "Got 'em right here."

She nodded. "Alright, well... After you then, fearless leader."

The grin Lance sent her was so wide she felt it was worth it to give him that little bit of lip service. This was more like the Lance she'd started to know. Whatever had him feeling jittery and distracted before seemed to have been overshadowed by the chance to show off and prove how great he was, which was good. Hunk seemed to think so too if the grateful smile he sent her way as he passed was anything to go off of.

She offered something more bashful back and fell into step behind the two of them as they crawled up the ladder from the _Derceto_ 's compression chamber and emerged into a rounded, white room.

The first thing she noticed about the docking station of the Komar was that it was remarkably clean compared to what she expected. There was a very thin film of dust coating most things, sure, but other than a tiny bit of what looked like sand scuffed into the metal floor, it was clear. It was also smaller than she expected. From the outside the station appeared massive, but the space inside was disproportionally limited by comparison. The sphere itself was easily the size of a classroom, but the actual interior was only half that.

It was shocking to see how much of the structure was designed purely to resist the vast amounts of pressure it had to endure. The docking station only had enough room for a small open space, several large (and empty) tubes which had presumably held diving suits at one point, a storage locker, and a tiny equipment hangar.

A glance at her wrist display told her it was only four degrees Celsius in the small room, which explained why her breath kept fogging up the inside of her helmet. She tapped a button on the side to adjust her suit for the conditions and made her way over to the first airlocked door.

It was a massive circular construct with hydraulic pressure locks and a heavy metal wheel for manual operation if necessary. A tiny number pad hunt on the wall to its right and she watched as Lance keyed in the code.

A light positioned above the door flashed yellow as it spun and a loud buzzer sounded off. All of them jumped at the sound and Hunk probably screamed, but Pidge couldn't tell because she'd made an equally-loud sound of alarm; there was a quick shift and rolling of pieces, and then the thick hatch swung open into the adjoining connector.

The light above the door flashed green and the buzzing stopped.

"Oh my _god!_ " Hunk yelled, throwing his arms up in the air. "Are you kidding me?! All that! For that? I thought we were dead! Why did they have to make that so loud?! I just lost ten years off the end of my life!"

Pidge didn't say anything, but inwardly she had to agree. That was terrifying, and the moment they got this place up and running she was going to reprogram that to something less heart attack-inducing.

"Look on the bright side," Lance said around a shaky laugh, his voice muffled by his suit. "It looks like everything's pretty secure so far. And we're almost halfway done with this mission already. Just one hallway and we're there."

Hunk just moaned in response and covered his visor with both hands until Pidge put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on," she said, "Lance is right. We're almost there. Let's keep going."

He turned to her with big eyes she could only half-see through the fog taking up his visor but nodded. She reached over and pressed the same suit controls she'd adjusted on her own a moment earlier and it disappeared rapidly.

"Th, thanks," he sniffed.

"No problem."

The door closed and locked quickly behind them once they'd passed through it and they kept moving. The hallway was even more empty than the docking area had been; there were just two cardboard boxes filled with print-outs and what looked like old books that had been pushed to one side, and a single sock strewn haphazardly on the floor. Pidge tried hard not to think about either of them or who they might belong to. She already knew the answer and that wasn't a rabbit hole she wanted to go down.

When they came to the large door at the end of the hall they were forced to wait and endure that awful buzzer a second time, but at least they were prepared for it now and Hunk only gave a quiet whimper when it went off.

All of them held their breath as the locks hissed and the heavy wheel on it rotated slowly. This was it, she thought. The moment they'd been waiting for. This was the last barrier between her and the answers she'd been searching for. Whatever had happened, whatever had turned the station dark and killed her family...it would be here, on the other side of this door.

Pidge felt her stomach churn with nerves and didn't even realize that she'd made her way to the front until a hand fell on either one of her shoulders and she started, looking back over her shoulders. Both Hunk and Lance stood there with solemn faces. Understanding glinted in their eyes.

"No matter what Pidge, we're here for you," said Hunk.

"We got you," said Lance.

Pidge swallowed and somehow mustered the strength to nod shakily. Her palms felt sweaty. Her hands clenched into fists. She nodded.

The doors opened, and Pidge felt the color drain from her face as she stared out into the large open room before her with utter incomprehension. Her muscles locked and she found she couldn't move as her brain worked frantically to make sense of what she was seeing.

It was a room, yes, she knew that. It made sense. It was the central hub, an entirely self-sufficient living environment built to survive on its own indefinitely. She knew the mechanics of it as best she could, had gone over the layout hundreds, if not thousands of times before in her spare time. She'd known to expect the circular ring of terminals in the center of the room, the flat disc of its surface where there would be a large holo-projector for the crew.

She knew that through the left hall was the crew quarters, the showers and water systems. Through the right was the food station and recreational rooms. There would be discrepancies between the layouts she'd studied and the actual station because of course the crew would move things around. There were chairs and a table where there shouldn't have been; an impromptu science station was set up on a bench.

Pidge had been preparing herself for years for what she might see; for the destruction and devastation, signs of a mission gone wrong. But what she hadn't prepared for was this: the sight of a place well-lived in, turned from something sterile and pristine to something homey. The now-lit terminals were littered with coffee cups she knew could only belong to her father. The backs of chairs had shirts draped over them. Notepads and papers were scattered across nearly every surface. A chart or two had been taped to the wall. A half-eaten meal, long spoiled and dissolved into nothing more than a black stain on the once-white plate it sat upon.

Pidge felt her throat close up before the faint whimper building in her chest ever had a chance to escape. If it weren't for the layer of dust coating everything would've looked normal. Like any moment her father or Matt would appear to congratulate her on finally making it down, for finally catching up to them like she'd always wanted.

This place didn't look like the final resting place of a crew doomed to suffocate at the bottom of the ocean.

It looked like _home_.

Pidge did nothing to fight the way her legs gave out beneath her as she fell to her knees, choking back the tears that threatened to pour over. Suddenly, everything became _real_.

Her dad and brother were dead. They were gone. And she was never getting them back.

 

* * *

 

Pidge didn't know how long she knelt there on the floor like that. She was dimly aware of Lance and Hunk's worried voices as they asked if she was okay, but Pidge had no answer to give them. She couldn't find her voice.

They didn't rush her.

They just stayed by her side until her tremors stopped and the anguish that wrapped itself tight around her heart drew away like molasses. Feeling gradually returned to her limbs and she blinked the wetness from her eyes. When she sniffed her nose was clogged and she brought a hand up to wipe at it, only to knock her hand against her helmet just the same as during their test dive.

But this time she wasn't in mortal danger and when she let out a broken chuckle Lance and Hunk were both there to help her to her feet. They didn't ask her if she wanted to go back, didn't ask if she wanted to talk. Lance just said,

"You good to go?" And when she nodded, he nodded back with a faint smile. The gratitude she felt was immense. "Cool. I'll leave the power core to you guys and go grab those samples. Ping me on the comms if you need anything or something comes up okay?"

She nodded again, and that was that. Lance flashed them both a wink and a grin and moved over to the table and chairs from before, setting down the black case and getting to work. Hunk appeared at her side and offered her a hand, but Pidge shook her head and sniffed again.

"I'm fine," she said, voice thick and scratchy. She was glad she didn't have to say more than that. Hunk took lead without complaint and brought them further into the room, following the concentric layout of the room until they reached the circle of terminals at its center.

"Alright, the maintenance hatch should be right about...here," he said, looking down at his feet. The floor was smooth and dusty except for a single latch built into the floor, and when he knelt down to pull at it a hatch large enough to fit them both opened up, revealing a ladder that dropped down a good ten feet or so. "Huh." He blinked. "Looks like this is it. You wanna go down first?"

"Sure," she said, waiting for him to move back before she moved herself to the edge and crouched down. Going down was a slow process just in case any of the rungs were loose, but they held fast and firm to the wall and she waved him down once her feet touched the floor. "Seems okay down here," she called up. "The lights are on. I can see all the way to the end. It looks like it loops around the Teludav reactor."

"Whoa," was the first thing he said when he stepped down, and Pidge was inclined to agree. She'd never seen a Teludav reactor in person before, and what she'd read about them didn't do them justice.

The strip leading up to the power core was only fifteen feet or so and opened up into a rounded room not unlike the one above. It was a great deal smaller though, and the walls down here weren't made of white metal, but instead hundreds of insulated wires and cables that ran the length of the floor to the vaulted ceiling above. Affixed atop them and exactly the same distance apart on all sides were dozens upon dozens of circular transparent lenses.

And mounted smack dab in the middle was a thick chamber made of glass. The Teludav reactor.

When properly powered both the lenses and reactor itself would fill with a bright blue light, but in its deactivated state it remained murky and dark, almost black in color. In a way she was glad for that; without a particle barrier to protect them, the sheer amount of heat these kinds of reactors produced would have been enough to vaporize them easily.

"Let's start with a perimeter scan. We can compare it to the blueprints and see if anything's out of alignment," Hunk said, stepping forward. He activated his wrist display and Pidge did the same. Beams of holographic light shot out, sweeping the ceiling and walls around them as Hunk let out a low whistle. "You know, it's a good thing they built so many safety features into this place, or losing power down here would've blown this whole area off the map."

"That's a comforting thought," she muttered wryly, oddly cheered by the morbidity of his humor. "I'm surprise you're not freaking out about that."

He waved a hand. "Oh, I am. It's just all internal right now. Expect a complete and total meltdown from me later if we survive all of this."

Pidge snorted before she could help it and found the beginnings of a tired smile on her lips but was interrupted when her wrist screen suddenly beeped and flashed at her. For a moment she feared it was the sensors built into her suit warning about a hazardous substance in their immediate vicinity, but a quick tap of one figure revealed that wasn't the case. There was something else. Something glaringly obvious when she followed the readouts to the indicator it projected and came to stop in front of a section of wall at the back.

"Hunk? You might want to come take a look at this," she said.

"What? What is it, did you find something?" he asked, coming over to her side. Pidge pointed up at a space on the wall. A big, round, _empty_ lens-shaped space. "Oh," he breathed.

"Yeah," Pidge agreed.

One of the lenses was missing.

"Okay, this just got super-weird," said Hunk. "This is impossible, right? Those things are fixed. They don't just...pop out. If one broke the whole place would've gone into an emergency shutdown and the support ship would've been notified."

"Not if someone removed it manually," Pidge said slowly. Hunk turned to look at her in disbelief.

"What? Why would anyone _want_ to do that? They'd have to shut down the whole system to be able to access it, and without a complete network the whole station would lose power."

"But not meltdown," she murmured, deep in thought. Auxiliary power would be able to carry the station for a couple of hours if non-essential services were turned off, but unless they had a replacement on hand... "The station would gradually run out of power and go dark," Pidge whispered. "Hunk, we need to check the logs on the main computer. Right now."

"What? Hey, wait up...!"

Pidge didn't wait for him to finish before she made a mad dash for the ladder and hastily climbed her way up. Lance had draped a black jacket over his shoulders despite his suit and was turning himself around when she emerged. He jumped and sputtered an excuse of some kind, but she didn't stop to listen; two steps and she was in front of the main terminal, hastily typing commands into the system. All it took was her father's ID and password and the main display flickered to life and filled with over a dozen different screens and readouts.

She ignored everything and swept it to the side, searching, searching, searching...

"Aha!" she exclaimed, heart beating a mile a minute. "Maintenance logs, power systems, controls... _there_." Pidge stopped scrolling at the last entry, dated 2314.04.28. "All systems normal, no fluctuations in power...until oh-five hundred." Her frown deepened. "Catastrophic hull collapse in lab 4-D, followed by main terminal access by _Unknown User?_ "

Surely that couldn't be right. The system didn't _have_ 'Unknown Users.' It only recognized valid logins. No one outside of the crew and Altea-approved support staff should have been able to access it. An unknown user was impossible. The computer shouldn't have let them in.

"Uhh...guys?" Lance spoke up from somewhere behind her. "What's going on?"

"One of the Teludav lenses from the reactor is missing," Hunk supplied. Pidge could hear his footsteps as he approached and turned to look at him.

"Hunk," she said, voice thick. He gulped and nodded uneasily.

"I know, man. It's not right."

"What?" Lance asked again. "What's not right? What did you guys find out?"

"The Komar didn't go dark by accident," she said grimly. "Someone intentionally removed one of the lenses from the reactor. They _wanted_ it to shut down."

"Wait, but that means..." Pidge watched as apprehension flickered across his face for one brief moment before it abruptly lost all color. "Oh, no..." he whispered.

"What?" she asked, suddenly wary.

"There's no one here," said Lance. "It's empty."

"We know that already," Pidge said, trying to keep irritation from spiking at his all-too-obvious statement. But Lance still looked stricken and shook his head.

"No—I mean _no one's here_ ," he stressed. "The crew's bodies aren't here. They're gone."

 

* * *

 

The ride back to the _Castleship_ was made in silence. No one said anything. There was nothing to say in the wake of their discovery, and no amount of rifling through the ship turned up the missing Teludav lens. They combed each section twice over with their scanners but failed to pick up any traces of its presence, which made even less sense than the fact that one was missing to begin with.

And that wasn't even taking into account the rest of the weirdness going on.

Their debriefing with Coran and Iverson was held behind closed doors when they made it back to the ship, and neither man seemed prepared for what they had to say. Heck, Lance could barely believe it and he'd been there. It was like something straight out of one of those sci fi-horror shows.

"That can't be right," Coran insisted, flabbergasted. "There wasn't anyone down there when the Komar went dark. It was just the crew! And now you're telling me they weren't even on board? Impossible!"

"We don't know what to make of it either," Pidge said, shoulders tense. "But if the timestamps in the computer haven't been altered then someone got inside the Komar's system, shut down the Teludav reactor, and then took one of the lenses just after the collapse in support lab 4-D."

"It's entirely possible the reason you were unable to locate the bodies was because some of the crew were inside when it collapsed," Iverson pointed out with grave solemnity. "And there's still the missing _Kerberos_ submersible to account for. It was never recovered when the mission went dark."

"Maybe...things went really, really-really bad down there and they tried to get out in the ship," Hunk suggested, but even Lance could tell it felt like a bit of a stretch. He knew Hunk was just trying to provide alternatives for Pidge's sake. The whole trip had shaken her, badly. She was still pale, even now.

"What about that footage you took from the ROV?" Lance tried. "How's that coming along?"

Coran shook his head. "Still decoding. As I said, it'll take a few days to sort it all out. And now we have an entirely new problem on our hands..." He sighed heavily and sat down in his seat, folding his hands together. He looked more serious than Lance had ever seen him before. "The first thing we need to do is restore power down there and get things up and running. We'll need to do a full sweep of the station from top to bottom. We can't leave anything unturned down there. Logs, journal, books, records, all of it. Anything and everything we can get our hands on to figure out what went wrong."

"But what about the Teludav lens? The station's not going to start up without that," Hunk pointed out.

"I'll have a replacement flown out first thing tomorrow morning," Coran assured them. "You three just do everything you can to get things going in the meantime. The labs on board are all ready to start receiving more samples and I've prepared several replacement batteries for use below. Those should tide us over until we get the power back on so long as we only run emergency systems. _And_ the air down there should be breathable within the day."

Lance blinked. "So...no poison?"

"None. There are quite a lot of other gases that won't be so good on your lungs down there though, so make sure to keep your suits on for the time being."

It wasn't the worst news given the circumstances. Aside from the whole spooky haunted underwater prison-vibe Lance was getting from everything, it was finally starting to feel like a proper mission.

The four A.M. launches still sucked though. Thankfully, Hunk was more than welcoming and didn't mind sharing a bunk with him. Lance still went to bed with goosebumps prickling his skin and an uneasiness that gnawed at his insides, but he slept soundly through the night and felt much more like himself when they strapped in for their next dive.

The same couldn't be said for Pidge. The two of them seemed to have switched places overnight, and while he recovered his need to joke and pester his teammates, Pidge withdrew and didn't want to interact outside of what was necessary for the mission. She had little to contribute to his and Hunk's discussions and didn't even perk up when it came time to drop the first of their bait traps just outside the Komar.

When they arrived and she announced that she was going to go through the crew's old logs and findings neither he nor Hunk said anything and just gave her the space she needed. Lance didn't mind playing the role of trusty sidekick while Hunk made sure that none of the other Teludav lenses needed replacing. He was happy to be of some use since there definitely wasn't going to be anything he could do to cheer Pidge up at the moment.

By the time they finished up and were ready to head back Pidge was still glued to the main terminal, eyes roving back and forth as she poured over the reports scrolling in front of her. Hunk sent him a worried look and Lance nodded; he could handle this.

"Sooo..." he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Find anything?"

"Nope." The answer was short, curt, and didn't leave any room for misinterpretation. He'd been on the receiving end of that tone plenty of times by now and very quickly backpedaled.

"Oh. Uh. Well, we sorted out most of the reactor stuff and put new sensors in the vents and everything...and it's been about four hours. So we should probably hail the guys upstairs and get going."

"Mmhmm." Pidge didn't look away from the screen.

"You could probably download that stuff and bring it with you. I'm sure Coran'd be able to help out," he offered, but that was apparently not the right thing to say and she whirled on him, eyes bright and intense.

"Oh, that's great idea! I'm sure the people who tried to cover it all up would be super-helpful right now about, Lance!"

He knew her anger wasn't directed at him specifically, but he still couldn't help flinching as her scathing words cut into him, unable to keep the look of shock and hurt from his face. He knew she was hurting. He just hadn't expected _that_. And Pidge seemed to realize, because she quickly turned away after that, features set into a hard frown as she clenched her hands into fists.

"Sorry. I know that's not... I know you're trying to help. You both are. But just...don't, okay? Not right now. I need to do this on my own."

Lance forced a smile to his face that he hoped looked more apologetic than pained. "Sorry Pidge. I know it's...yeah. Sorry. But we really do need to get going okay? We need to check in."

"We're coming back first thing tomorrow," Hunk stepped in to remind her. "You can pick back up then. Okay? Nothing's going anywhere right now."

The pause that followed was tense and uncertain, but eventually Pidge's scowl seemed to turn itself inward and she let out a sigh of defeat. "Alright. Fine. Let's just go already."

Hunk sent him a worried glance but Lance just shook his head. Nothing they could say right then would make her feel any better. The trip back up to the _Castleship_ was made mostly in silence. They stopped once to replace the battery charges and check the bait trap for any scavengers, then released the weights and shot up back towards the surface.

 

* * *

 

The next day they installed the replacement lens. Rather than try and distract or engage Pidge once it was in place though, Lance and Hunk simply left her to it while they went around and took care of their other tasks for the day. Neither of them minded the extra legwork if it gave her the time to sort things out for herself. Lance could only hope that eventually she'd feel comfortable enough coming to them to talk. Until then, they'd do what they could to support her.

For the most part their work involved going out in the _Derceto_ to take samples. Sediment, rock, and even water was carefully collected and marked with their depths and coordinates. They stayed fairly close to the base for the most part since neither of them was interested in drifting anywhere near the strange growth, but Lance did take them up and down the water column in a few places just for fun. When they turned the lights off inside the cockpit and let the darkness engulf them, they were welcomed with a veritable lightshow as the water around them filled with flashing colors of every kind.

It was one of the things Lance liked about being down this far. Light didn't penetrate so everything down here had to make its own. It was beautiful, like watching tiny stars winking in and out of existence.

They returned to the base feeling more grounded and did a final sweep to check the traps from the day before and were pleasantly surprised to find that two of them had attracted quite a large number of critters. Lance couldn't even begin to guess at what half of them were, but the guys up top would probably be pretty excited when they brought them back.

Retrieving and replacing the first several traps was easy. The last one, however, proved to be a bit of a mystery. There were clear signs of life approaching the cage: bottom-feeders littered the surrounding area and Lance could see more than a few brittle stars had begun to crowd the area. But the trap itself was completely empty. No catches _or_ bait.

He blinked. "...Huh. Guess the guys on this side of the base are a little smarter than your average sponge."

Hunk hummed thoughtfully. "You think maybe we didn't set it properly? Maybe the bait got washed away."

"Down here?" Lance shook his head. "Not likely. The water doesn't move much in case you haven't noticed. Some tiny guys must've come in and cleaned up shop. Let's just grab it; we'll reset it tomorrow when we come back."

It was an easy fix to an easy problem and Lance was glad for it. Pidge didn't have anything to report when they went to get her and it was obvious that the lack of results was beginning to weigh on her. All his attempts to poke or prod were met with a drained, "Not now, Lance." It wasn't disheartening so much as it was worrying, and he resolved to try again after they'd all gotten a bit of rest.

That all fell to the wayside the moment they touched down the next day and found that at least a quarter of the traps they'd put out had been emptied overnight. One they could blame on a faulty latch or particularly ravenous group of bottom-feeders. But six? In under twelve hours? Not a chance. The whole thing was made even more baffling by the fact that none of them appeared to have been broken into and remained firmly latched shut. They didn't have any external damage that would've been present if something had smashed them open. They were just...empty.

"Okay this is getting really weird guys," Hunk said, wary. "That's seven traps in, what? Less than a day? What eats whole chickens that fast?"

"Nothing down here," said Pidge, a frown on her face and bags under her eyes. It was one of the first things she'd said all morning and it caught Lance off guard enough that he stared for a moment before catching himself. "If it was any of these benthos—"

"These what-now?"

Pidge sighed. "It means bottom-feeders, Lance. If it was any of those, they would've left the bones behind. It's the same as what happens after a whale fall. Scavengers pick the body clean and leave the rest."

Lance blinked. "But...it was a whole chicken."

"It was _six_ whole chickens," Hunk corrected.

Pidge crossed her arms over her chest, pensive. "We need to leave a camera. Don't replace the traps that got emptied. We'll grab the ones with any marine life inside but leave one with a camera set up so we can catch whatever's eating them in the act."

Because something had to be eating them, right? It's not like raw chicken would let itself out of a metal cage.

"Hunk and I can take care of that," Lance offered quickly. "If you want to get back to the Komar's computers and all that. We can cover for you."

He expected her to take his offer with the same distracted and stiff nods she'd been giving him the last couple of days but was surprised when she shook her head and sighed. It looked more like she was hugging herself now, less certain and aloof.

"No. No, you... You've both been carrying the slack for me, and I know it. I know I should be helping. You guys are just being so _you_ about it, and I'm..."

Lance approached her to lay a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. "We're a team now. We've got your back. This whole thing with the Komar and the crew and Altea...we know it's rough."

"Yeah," Hunk nodded. "This whole thing is really weighing on you. We get that."

"I know." She didn't look up at either of them, but the downward curve to her lips lessened just a little and that was enough to make Lance feel hopeful; like maybe what they were doing was helping after all. "I'm sorry. I know I need to do more. I will."

"It's fine, seriously," Lance assured her. "Hunk and I will set up the trap and the camera and you can make sure all our sensors and surveillance systems are working on the station. That way we'll have all our bases covered. Sound good?"

Pidge nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sounds good."

He grinned. "Alright. Then let's go catch ourselves a chicken thief." He clapped her once more on the shoulder before making his way back over to his seat and flashing Hunk a quick thumb's up that the other man returned. It was just a little, but it was progress.

 

* * *

 

There was a huge sediment cloud near the base when they returned.

And by huge, Lance meant stupidly so. It was big enough to swallow the _Derceto_ whole when he brought it in for a better look, stomach twisted into fascinated knots as they all watched the dust-like cloud hang, stooping slowly back towards the sea bed below. It had probably been trying to settle for hours by now; water this far down didn't move fast. It's why he had to be especially careful when piloting the ship. Even the slightest jet of air could kick up a cloud of debris that could take days to completely settle.

Something had happened while they were gone. Something big.

Something that had succeeded in getting into their bait trap.

And now they had it all on film.

There were no words to describe the underlying tension and sense of excitement that permeated the cabin as they recovered the camera from the site. The gloom and uncertainty before was gone, overshadowed by the possibility of what they might find when they looked at it. Lance was voting sea monster to freak Hunk out, but he couldn't help denying that he half-hoped he was right despite its unlikeliness. Not because he wanted to run into it or anything, but because what an addition _that_ would make to story of their daring and heroic mission when he told it later.

Large-bodied, bony animals couldn't survive this far down, but take skeletons out of the equation and you wound up with some pretty freaky stuff.

Case and point: whatever the heck it was they were dealing with down here.

Lance was jittery and restless as he pulled them in to dock. He was the first one out of the submersible and stood impatiently, fingers tapping as he waited for Hunk to retrieve the camera from the pressurized cargo hold. The pressure locks on the door were even worse, and it felt forever for Pidge to download the data onto the main terminal so they could view it.

"Come on...how long can this possibly take? We were only gone a couple of hours!" he said.

"Yeah, several hours. Shot in high-resolution at an absurdly high framerate," Pidge replied curtly. "The file size alone is several terabytes. Just give it a minute."

He groaned. "But it's taking forever..."

"I for one am perfectly fine if it takes a long time," Hunk lifted his hand. "The creepy underwater aliens can stay a mystery for all I care! We're supposed to be unloading the ship and getting things set up so we can do the job we actually came down here for. Remember that?"

"We are doing our jobs. Altea wants us to discover stuff for them, right? Well this is us! Discovering stuff." Lance leaned his hands back on the terminal nonchalantly, only to get them smacked a moment later.

"Don't touch anything," said Pidge.

"Uuugh."

"And don't make that noise. It's only going to—oh. Never mind, there we go." Lance blinked at the surprise in her tone and turned back to the screen. It was finished. "That was faster than expected," she said, already drawing up the footage. "Now, let's see what we've got here..."

A large image of the bait trap and sea floor appeared on the large screen in front of them, and if it weren't for the slow but steady drift of marine snow in the water it would've looked like a still shot. Light cast from the base allowed them to see a bit further into the distance behind it, but nothing moved. It was deathly still.

Lance held his breath.

And then kept holding it, and holding it, until they ached and he let out a whoosh of air in disbelief. Nearly five minutes of still, unmoving water. "Can we speed this up at all? This is like watching paint dry." Plus, it made all the build-up feel really anticlimactic. His heart was still beating fast, but for all the wrong reasons now.

"Oh—right. Sorry." Pidge clicked a few buttons and the footage began to shoot forward at two times regular speed. Four. Eight. Sixteen. Hours blew by in seconds and suddenly the image on the screen exploded in a blur of brownish muck that had Hunk crying out in alarm, pointing.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold up, go back! That's the cloudy part!"

"Gimme a sec, don't just go shouting," Pidge said back hurriedly, skipping the footage back several steps until the image turned clear again. Then she stopped and wound forward at normal speed.

The timestamp put it at ten past seven the night before, long after they'd already left for the _Castleship_. The image was the same as before, only now that it wasn't being fast-forwarded through they all saw it when a dark shape moved far, far in the distance behind the bait trap. Any other time Lance would've called it a trick of the light, but then Pidge and Hunk gasped at his side and he knew they'd seen it too.

The only problem was without a point of reference for distance there was so way to make out how big it actually was; it was just a plip of blackness within...blackness? How was that possible? You shouldn't see shadow on shadow, unless...

 _Ah._ There it was: a flicker, or a flash somewhere far-off, and then the shadow was gone.

"Guys...what the heck was that," Hunk whimpered. Pidge shushed him and they all stared, transfixed as the feed stretched on and on until it seemed like that was it. Pidge moved her hand to try and fast-forward again when a sudden burst of movement on screen made them all jump as something big, blurry and dark bullied its way in front of the camera, knocking its angle off.

It was...what? A tail or a fin of some sort? Not gelatinous or delicate like the invertebrates this far down. It looked flesh-like and thick, some sort of hide that brushed and bumped against the camera, obscuring the trap and what lay beyond it. It lasted only a handful of seconds before there was a twitch, and faster than any of them could see, whatever it was bolted. The next thing they knew sediment was being kicked up everywhere in one massive cloud and they could see nothing.

They stared.

"Holy crow," Lance uttered, eyes wide. "Was that...was that a _shark?_ There's no way that was a shark, right? Pidge?"

"W-what? You're asking me?" She looked surprised and more than a little rattled as she turned on him, incredulous. "I... Maybe? Or...no. I don't know! Cookie cutter sharks sometimes get up to 3,700 meters down but we are way beyond that," she said, shaking her head. "It had to be some sort of eel or fish."

"An eel or fish big enough to be _that shadow_ and also get into a totally locked bait trap." Hunk paled. "It really _is_ a sea monster."

"It's not a sea monster, Hunk!" Pidge said. "There's got to be some sort of explanation for this. A new species or something."

"Yeah, a new species of monster!"

" _Hunk_ ," she groaned, before fixing Lance with a very pointed Look, which he supposed was fair. He had been the one to go on about them to rile the poor guy up after all.

"I'm just saying, if something comes and eats all of us in our sleep, I told you so. Like what if the thing out there is related to what happened to the crew?" he said meekly. "Pidge you even said it yourself, they found something in the water. What if this is that?"

" _If_ this is in any way related to what my father and brother saw down here, there'd be a record of it," Pidge stated with a slight frown. "And I've been going over those logs for two days now. There's no mention of whatever they saw. They don't even have that growth logged as far as I can tell."

"Well...what about the logs they didn't send to Altea?" Lance suggested. She had said their communications were sent in secret after all. It wouldn't be that big a leap in logic to think they might've kept that information hidden if they thought something was off.

Also, the thought of finding hidden secret messages in the abandoned research station may or may not be completely and totally awesome.

Pidge, however, just looked surprised at the notion; like she hadn't considered it herself. "I...suppose that's possible, yes. Assuming Altea hasn't had access to any of the original files the crew saved, they wouldn't have had the chance to cover it up and it'd explain why there's nothing in the system." Her eyes glinted. "They likely would have kept written records—or separate logs entirely. Something not connected to the network, like a personal data pad."

Lance could feel the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. "Well then what are we waiting for?" he said. "Let's get digging."

 

* * *

 

His suggestion was not, for record, fueled by the opportunity and desire to go through his childhood hero's things. No matter what sort of looks Hunk sent him when Lance immediately offered himself up to go check through Shiro's things, getting to poke around in the man's room was just a happy coincidence. He was making the best of a bad situation, that's all. Totally wasn't an actual dream he'd had come true.

That's what Lance told himself as he touched the wall panel outside and watched as the doors opened with no small amount of glee bubbling inside his chest. The lights took a second to flicker on proper, but unlike before it didn't stir a sense of uneasiness within him; now that the Komar was powered up proper a lot of the fear factor surrounding it had been lost. It felt more like going through a room back at the Garrison than a haunted base beneath the waves.

Heck, it even looked like one. It was surprisingly small all things considered, but then again space was a bit of an issue when it came to the deep sea so it made sense. The bed was a single and built into the wall to his left, the sheets tucked neatly and pristine. The wall directly opposite him had a small porthole that looked out into the water beyond, now illuminated by the station so that he could see well out into the distance.

He ignored that in favor of the small writing table to the side and felt his stomach leap with excitement when he noticed a notebook lying on top. Right away he snatched it up, telling himself he was just looking for clues and not a look into the innermost workings and secrets of his former idol as he flipped it open and began to read.

Most of it was jumbles of notes and personal reminders for various tasks around the station: things like replacing filters and checking water pressure in the shower. It wasn't exactly riveting, but Lance found himself taking a seat anyway as he skimmed along to the bits where Shiro had taken to keeping some sort of personal account of his time in the station.

 

_'Dec 04_

_First trip into the Kraydah Trench yesterday. Hard to believe it really happened, everything seems like a blur. Had a fan give out on the way down so we'll need to repair and make some adjustments before we go down. In total I think I was there less than an hour but it was incredible! I've never seen anything like it._

_I only managed to take one sample before the science doors stopped working but Professor Holt seems very excited about it.'_

 

_'Dec 11_

_The Kerberos has been repaired. This time Matt's going to come with me into the Trench to get a core sample. Crossing my fingers that the equipment will hold out a little longer this time._

_Last night I dreamed all the samples we've been collecting were actually cheese. Never thought I'd miss dairy so much. Dehydrated just isn't the same.'_

 

The entries were surprisingly...normal. Lance hadn't expected them to suddenly blow open some giant conspiracy or anything, but it was surprising in a comforting sort of way to discover his hero crush had bizarre, silly dreams just like anyone else. That he had a sense of humor and wonder. Lance wished sorely that he could've met him. The closest he'd ever gotten was the orientation he'd attended in his first year at the Garrison when Shiro delivered a speech on stage. Lance had hung onto his every word.

He was just about to turn to the next entry in the notebook when a slow, creaking groan ran through the walls around him. Lance paused to look around but wasn't really alarmed. Stuff like that was common in buildings no matter where you put them, but he felt his mouth curl at the edges as he thought about how much it probably freaked Hunk out.

There were two more groans that echoed through the station before it went quiet again and Lance leaned back in his chair with a hum. He thumbed the corner of one page and started to read again.

 

_Dec 29_

_The new year's almost here so we celebrated tonight with some kind of home-brewed wine Sam thought he could make from the juice we had in cartons. I think it sort of worked? Everyone definitely felt something after drinking it. Matt's been complaining about bright lights in the water all night and I definitely have a headache._

_Lesson learned.'_

 

_'Dec 30_

_Spent most of the day in bed. I think we all did?_

_Note to self: never agree to try anything Sam makes again.'_

 

Lance couldn't help but snicker at that last one. Even if he didn't find anything useful, he was definitely going to show that one to Pidge. She probably had a good explanation for it too. Any family that hijacked satellite relays for fun had to have a story or two to tell when alcohol got involved. He couldn't help but feel for Shiro though, and maybe wished a little that he could've been there to see it. It was too bad the only internal footage this place had was when they made their video logs.

Keen to see what other nonsense the crew had apparently gotten into behind the scenes, Lance dutifully kept reading. There were no more drunken stories (looks like they all learned that lesson), but the tone in his entries did change after a certain point. It was most noticeable after a particularly long entry dated in mid-January, which was odd. Most up to that point had been faint succinct and short.

This one, though...

 

_'Jan 12_

_We went out into the Trench today to gather some water samples like usual. It's strange to admit that going down almost feels routine now. That it feels normal to dive down into the deepest place on the planet. Everything down here has started to feel that way._

_We get up like normal, eat breakfast like normal, and then we go about our day. Most of the time it's just collecting things for study. Matt catalogues all the dirt and water samples we get and Sam █████████ everything else._

_He's been really excited about the sea sponges Matt and I picked up a few weeks ago. He thinks they had the potential to change medicine as we know it and asked me to get more after the last batch ████_

_I've started to wonder about the things we're supposed to be doing down here. Matt's been stressed. Galra Corp. wants a core sample from inside the Trench. But why? They can't possibly want to drill this far down. There's nothing here but █████_

_There ██████_

_█████nothing but ███████_

_██████ sometimes I almost think it looks like lights dancing in the dark. Just like in my dreams._

_██████████████████████████████_

_███████████████████ █████████████ ███████ ███████████████  
_

_I've thought about talking to Sam about it but he has enough on his shoulders right now after the incident. We all do, honestly. I never imagined that when we came down here we'd find something like this. It changed everything I thought I knew._

_Matt doesn't want to tell anyone about it and I agree. We don't know enough yet to draw any conclusions, but I think this and what happened before are connected. I just don't know how, yet. But I'm going to find out.'_

 

There was no mistaking the large splotches of black ink where whole sections that had been hastily scratched out in favor of other half-formed thoughts. It was haphazard and disjointed in a way nothing up to that point had been, and no matter how he flipped back through each of the previous entries, none of them brought up the 'incident' the entry spoke of. It was if an entry was missing. Or several.

 _Tap, tap_.

There was two weeks between this entry and the one prior and Lance frowned thoughtfully. Did Shiro remove it on purpose? Was it something he didn't want anyone to know about? He tried to see if flipping the page over and holding it up to the light would help him see what the scribbled parts were, but no luck. He'd used pen and not a marker to make the changes. Any traces of the original words had been completely obscured.

 _Tap, tap, ta_ —

"What?" Lance called out, head snapping towards the doorway with a huff. He expected to find either Pidge or Hunk standing there with some sort of knowing smirk or their communicator up and rolling with video, but when his gaze settled on the doorway he found it empty.

He blinked slowly.

"Hunk? That you? You okay man, did you guys find some...thing?" Lance pushed himself up and made his way to the doorway, but when he poked his head into the hall it was empty. Hunk and Pidge were nowhere to be found. "What the heck..." he murmured. "Guys? You there?"

No answer. Lance scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. Was this supposed to be some sort of prank? If so this had to be the worst timing in the history of ever. Not even he was dumb enough to try something when they were all on edge.

He supposed there was always the possibility that he'd misheard, but he could've _sworn_...

 _Tap, tap, tap_.

Lance froze dead in his tracks. There was no way he'd imagined that one. That was _definitely_ the sound of someone rapping on the wall, no mistake about that. But that wasn't what made him stop.

It was the fact that the sound hadn't come from in front of him. It wasn't carrying from somewhere down the hall. It hadn't come from somewhere further inside the base or echoed through a vent.

It had come from behind. As in, _behind him right now_. From inside the room.

Lance felt a cold chill run down his spine. His arms prickled with goosebumps as he stopped breathing and waited. And waited. And waited—

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Lance let out a startled breath. His hands shook. He dropped Shiro's journal and it clattered to the floor.

Very slowly he started to turn around, heart beating wildly inside his chest like some caged animal. Time seemed to slow down as he blinked his eyes closed. The world went dark and for one brief moment, Lance could tell himself that he was overreacting; that things were fine and he was making a big deal over nothing.

But then he opened them and found himself staring into a pale face pressed up against the porthole glass from outside.

A face filled with two large, white, milky eyes and a gaping maw of teeth.

His heart stopped.

And then that sound again: _tap, tap, tap_.

Only this time Lance could see the long slender digit that made it as it drew back and landed on the heavy glass. Over. And over. And over.

Lance screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO.... It's a bit of a cliffhanger but it's all Keith, all the time from here on out SO ENJOY.
> 
> Shout out to [Jemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard), [Lena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins/pseuds/derkins), [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) and [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13), who helped beta this chapter. It would have been a mess without you guys :')
> 
> A bajillion thanks goes out to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or kudo last chapter. They all meant so much to me and I love reading each and every single one. It means a lot to me that people have enjoyed this story up to this point, so thank you very much!
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 I love answering questions or chatting about anything Voltron so please feel free to come by!


	10. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going out and poking things with a stick has never ended terribly for anyone, ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of super-amazing and awesome people drew fanart last chapter, which totally floored me?? I never expected such an amazing response to this fic, so thank you all very much! Check them all out in the notes at the end of the chapter!
> 
> Betas for this chapter: [Lena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins/pseuds/derkins) | [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) | [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13)

It was a person.

_A person_.

Only there couldn't be, because that was impossible. Lance didn't know a ton about marine biology or science, but he did know pressure. Water. There was no way for a human body to survive these kinds of depths without the Garrison's suits, and the face staring at him now had no such protection. He could see their thick black hair floating freely in the water like strands of kelp, gently swaying back and forth without restraint. And those eyes... Those too-large eyes, the pale skin bleached of any color at all...

It was like looking into the face of a corpse.

A corpse with lots and lots of teeth.

Lance opened his mouth to scream but the only thing that came out was a choked squeak as his throat constricted, tight and unrelenting. Fear locked up his muscles and made them useless as he staggered backwards. Two steps in and his foot caught the notebook he dropped earlier, pulling the floor out from under his feet and sending him failing back with a squawk of alarm. Both his hands and his tailbone smacked painfully into the floor, but the sensation felt distant; miles away from where he sat, unable to tear his eyes away from the person's? Thing's? face.

It was all wrong. _Wrong_ in every way Lance's brain could process because there couldn't be a dead body this far down, there just couldn't. And even if there was, it should be bloated. Decayed. It couldn't stare at him like that, couldn't move long, slender fingers so that they slowly stretched their way out across the glass and the dark slits on either side of it's neck pulsed and flared wide.

... _Wait, what?_

Lance froze in place, staring. Even held his breath as he watched pale lips draw back and give way to a tooth-filled maw that opened wider and wider, pressing against the glass like it meant to crush it— _there_. The smooth white column of their neck split open into a series of dark lines on either side, almost like a set of...of...

"Holy shit," Lance whispered, voice small.

Those were _gills_. Or they looked like them—because surely, they couldn't be—but he _knew_ fish. Not like Pidge or other marine biologists might, but the ocean had been a part of Lance's life since before he could walk. Beja was a coastal town; its shoreline stretched far beyond the city's limits and their lives were as much intertwined with it as the creatures which dwelt within. They fished from it, harvested from it; farmed seaweed and mussels and dove down into the depths for the shellfish below. His parents had been divers, and their parents before them, and theirs before that, stretching back countless generations. And then it had been his turn.

He'd spent the majority of one summer combing the deeper waters beyond the reefs, where the sandy banks dropped off and disappeared into the deep blue below. There he'd made unlikely friends with an aged sunfish, a massive and gangly creature with scrapes and scars all over its body. Old bite wounds left divots in its flank, but still it hadn't shied away from Lance as he swam and drifted alongside it, watching it sun itself and laying his hands on its chilled scales. He could remember clearly each pulse of its great gills as it drew breath from water, the slow in-and-out press of the gentle flaps of flesh.

It was exactly the same as what he was staring at now, only it wasn't the single slit he was used to seeing on fish. There were six, three on each side, that opened and closed in a slow, steady rhythm that belied any sense of urgency or frenzy. Their mouth opened wide again, teeth clinking on the glass, but this time Lance didn't flinch. It wasn't trying to gnaw its way through the glass.

It was _breathing_.

It was alive.

"Oh my god, _what the heck is that?!_ "

Any pretense Lance had of telling himself he hadn't seen anything in the water, that he'd somehow been mistaken, fizzled out at the sound of Hunk's terrified yelp. Lance's head snapped around and found Hunk pressing himself back against the wall at the mouth of the room, Pidge at his side. All the color had drained from her face. Her mouth dropped open. She didn't freak out, but instead looked frozen in place, arms motionless at her sides.

"Wh...what..." She was at a loss for words.

Lance looked back over his shoulder and failed to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of the not-quite-corpse still mouthing at the porthole with its teeth. It seemed heedless of their alarmed cries, more concerned with whatever it was doing with its mouth. It gave them a disturbingly good look at each and every pointed, shark-like tooth. Lance gulped.

"It—it was watching me," Lance said, unable to keep his voice steady. "I just looked up and they...it was _there_."

"Oh my god, ohhhh my god," Hunk moaned in horror, holding his hands over his mouth. "That's not...that's not one of the crew is it?"

Lance blanched and looked at him in alarm.

"No," Pidge breathed. "No, no... That's... It's not. I'm not even sure if it's..."

_Human?_ Lance wanted to offer, but instead of words it came out as a weak huff of air that turned immediately alarmed when he realized Pidge was moving forward towards the darn thing with one hand outstretched.

"Pidge!" he hissed.

She either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, because it did nothing to stop her from delicately pressing gloved fingertips to the glass. Almost immediately the face on the other side of the glass jerked backwards, mouth snapping shut as those rounded eyes seemed to center on her. It was hard to tell without actual pupils to gauge where it was looking, but for one short, precious moment the two of them locked gazes...and then it was gone, pulling out of sight. So fast that a blink and you'd miss it.

Hunk wailed. "It's gone! It's gone, where did it go? It disappeared!"

"It didn't disappear!" she said, abruptly pushing herself away from the porthole and turning to bolt past both of them into the hall. "It's moving—hurry up!"

Lance stared at Hunk and Hunk stared right back, both their mouths agape in disbelief. Silence hung between them for all of one second before they were both scrambling after her, preferably before she got herself eaten. And yes, he knew how that sounded, even inside his own head. Lance didn't care. They were literally chasing a person with gills through the deep sea. Things had officially left the realm of anything even remotely resembling normal.

"Pidge, wait up! Hey!"

Lance grabbed the edge of the wall on the next corner to swing himself around into the main cabin. Hunk was right on his heels. Lance cleared about five feet into the room before he caught sight of her dashing from one porthole to the next, pressing her face into each of them and looking left and right. Searching.

She swore. "It's gone! Where the heck did it go? Why doesn't this base have more windows in it? I can't see anything like this!"

"Uhh, Komar to Pidge! Do you know what you're doing right now? That thing out there probably wants to kill us!" Hunk said, trying and failing to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "There's a _person_ down here—an underwater, no-diving suit-wearing person! That's not normal!"

"Stop yelling and help me turn on the external cameras already!" she barked, making her way over to the controls. "We need to get a visual on that thing. _Now_."

"No, what we need to do is call in tactical units or the army or an exterminator!" Hunk wailed. "Whoever you call to get rid of monsters at the bottom of the sea! Let's call them!"

"Wait, guys," Lance said, trying to step in. "I don't think we're dealing with what you think we are. Maybe we should take a step back and—"

"And what, let that thing slip away from us? Fat chance!" Pidge snapped, pulling up every screen available on the large display. Feeds from every exterior camera filled the air and the sight of the Komar's off-white hull came into focus, stained on most sides with streaks of brown and greyed shells on the east. The tension in the room was palpable as they stared at the feeds in silence.

There was no movement on any of them at first glance. Everything looked still and silent. The sediment cloud from before hung suspended in the water but no other had swept up to join it. Which meant that it was probably still close to the base, maybe above, or below or... Or clinging to the side of the damn station, holy shit.

"You guys," Lance said, eyes wide. He lifted one hand slowly to point at feed located near the top-left, and when Pidge magnified it, all of them were at a loss for words.

The feed was recording from the side, about eight or ten feet away but with perfect clarity. It was no wonder they'd nearly missed it. The thing, whatever it was, was so pale that its skin nearly blended right into the outer walls of the station where it was pressed against it, arms tucked in close to its chest. Its torso followed the swell and curve of the hull and looked as deceptively human as its face had, but that the point where all similarities between them and it ended.

Instead of slender legs to follow the jut of their hips, there was a stretch of grey flesh. A tail, wide and nearly twice as long as its body. Fins broke off just below its hips like a set of wings and hugged the side of the base. A dorsal fin grew out of the end of the tailbone, and at the very end it tapered off into a pointed tip.

Just like a shark.

Black lines along its sides flared and stretched out in tandem with the gills on its neck, and Lance drew in a reflexive breath at the same time.

"Holy crap," he whispered, unable to believe what he was seeing. "That's a _mermaid_."

 

* * *

 

It was a mermaid.

An honest-to-god _mermaid_ , unless evolution down here had warped somehow and put fish on the same evolutionary track as primates. And Pidge knew enough about both those to know that just wasn't possible no matter what sorts of bizarre theories Hunk and Lance were trying to come up with to explain their...guest.

Thanks to the positioning and their environment it was hard to get more than a cursory read on it. The cameras on the base could only zoom in so far and weren't built for the high resolutions she would've liked. Thermal and sonar imagining weren't much use either. The mermaid's body was only slightly warmer than the water outside, a degree or two at most. And when pressed against the cool surface of the Komar it was practically invisible, tucked all-too-conveniently inside the acoustic 'dead zone' where her sensors couldn't reach.

So far, she'd been able to determine that the mermaid made no biological sense. It literally looked as though someone had been cut off at the waist and had a shark body stitched onto them, and if it weren't for the milky eyes and too-large teeth that most definitely spoke to a carnivorous diet, she would've been inclined to think it was just that: some sort of unethical, freaky science experiment turned loose. Very little else seemed plausible. Her only other conclusion was that it had just naturally evolved that way, and if that was the case, where had it come from? How many were out there? _Were_ there others? How old was this specimen? What was it even doing here?

They weren't going to get answers to any of those questions unless they got a closer look.

"We need to get out there," she said, interrupting the other two. Both Hunk and Lance stopped mid-debate on whether it was more fish than human or more human than fish to stare at her.

"You mean...like in the water?" Lance asked slowly, expression wary. "Because you know that only one of us has a pressure suit and I kind of enjoy living, thanks! I am so not hopping out there to go and poke a mermaid with a stick, no matter how pretty they are."

He paused. And then his mouth twisted into a slow smirk. "I mean, maybe if we were talking my—"

Pidge immediately held up a hand. "Nope, thanks, that's gross."

"Ditto here man."

"Whaaat? I'm just saying, if it's for science, I'm willing to lend a little DNA to the cause." He waggled his eyebrows and Pidge made a sound of disgust, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I'm talking about _Rover_ , Lance. We need to send him out there to get a better look at that thing."

"...Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" She rolled her eyes. "I'll need you in the _Derceto_ running the controls while Hunk and I patch the feed in from here. We don't know what that thing is capable of yet or what sort of behavior it'll display so make sure you take things slow."

"That's what she said."

"Oh my god, _Lance._ "

He immediately held both hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist. This is super-serious, got it."

"Then can you please act like it?"

"Look it's either this or freaking out, and between the three of us Hunk has that one covered," he said, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder. "This whole thing is crazy. There is a mermaid out there, Pidge! Merrrrmaaaaai— _d!_ "

"A mermaid we know absolutely nothing about," Hunk pointed out anxiously, voice rising. "Like, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news here guys but what if that thing is just waiting for us out there? What if it wants to eat us? What if it ate the last crew?"

" _If_ it's related to what happened to my family then I'm going to find out for sure," she said, fighting back her frustration and levelling them with a hard stare. "Which means we need a drone out in the water. Lance? Go. Hunk, you're with me."

She left them no room for argument and crossed her arms, unmoving as they looked at each other, uncertain, and finally back to her. They nodded and Lance rubbed the back of his neck, taking his leave. Hunk came to hover awkwardly at her side but Pidge didn't have the patience or time to feel bad for snapping. Yes, they were all freaked out and trying to cope in their own ways. Getting answers was hers.

"Start recording all data on that section of the hull," she told him, pulling up her wrist display and bringing up open communications. "Don't let it out of our sight. We need to get as much data on it as we can before it leaves."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing though?" Hunk asked warily. "There's no way we can go out in the water with something like that lurking around. Did you see those teeth? That thing is _definitely_ a predator. It's probably scheming a way to get inside so it can eat us as we speak!"

"You're supposing a level of intelligence we're not even certain this thing has yet, which is another reason you should be recording all of this right now," she said, linking the Komar's feed to her wrist display.

The mermaid hadn't moved from where she last saw it, still pressed against the outside of the Komar. It didn't actually seem to be doing much aside from breathing. The only real movement she could discern came from the gradual open-and-shut flutters of its many gills as it drew in one slow breath after another. Not even having all their floodlights directed on it seemed to disturb it, but she couldn't be sure. The mermaid's face was turned away from the camera and they didn't have a reverse angle on it to check.

Observing it now, nothing immediately stood out that suggested this thing was capable of higher levels of intelligence, but Pidge wasn't willing to jump the gun on that without proof. There were other factors to consider, like the emptied traps. Not a single one had been broken into, which meant either there was a massive, ravenous force of tiny bottom feeders that could slip in and out unimpeded and somehow dissolve the skeletal structure of chickens in less than twelve hours...or something capable of not only opening the traps, but also possessing the intellect and manual dexterity required to do so. Something with fingers...just like their newest guest.

Just because it looked human at first glance didn't mean it was at all like them though. For all they knew, its appearance could be a lure meant to draw in prey that might be attracted to such an appearance. Prey like them, too curious for their own good to resist the allure of something so impossibly similar to them, it defied all logic. Maybe that was how this thing hunted.

Or it could all be one giant coincidence and they were about to make the scientific discovery of the century, but there was no way to know for certain until they got a better look.

Pidge tapped her communicator. "Lance, where are you? Are you in position yet?"

His voice took a few seconds to crackle back over the radio, just slightly winded. He must've run there from the sound of it. "Just about. I'm loading up into the _Derceto_ now, gimme a sec to access the remote controls."

"Good. Let me know as soon as you deploy."

"Will do!"

Pidge nodded to herself and then turned to Hunk. "Are we recording?"

"Yup, every horrifying second."

"Good," she said, "I'm going in to get a closer look."

"Wh—wait, what? Pidge!" Hunk looked at her in alarm but she was already moving past him, following the display on her wrist. If she was right about the mermaid's position relative to theirs (and she was certain she was), then the closest window was just outside of the room they'd found Lance in. Her feet carried her back down the hall they'd come from only moments before, a long stretch of sterile white flooring and equally bland paneling on the walls. There were only two sections of glass.

She double-checked the feed on her wrist. The mermaid was still hovering between, just slightly closer to her left.

Right then, she thought. Time to get a better look at the first-ever, living cryptid. Pidge let out a slow breath and made her way over, coming to a gradual stop in front of the thick glass. For not the first time she found herself grateful for the vast advances Altea Industries had made in deep-sea technology. Glass this thick would've normally been a nightmare of distortion to see through, but here she was, granted a view clear as day. Like the glass was centimeters thick instead of inches.

There was nothing in front of her at the moment, but with any luck that would change with what she was about to do next as she lifted one hand finger carefully up to the glass...and tapped.

It was the exact thing she'd always been told not to do as a child. _Don't tap on the glass, Katie,_ her father would say. _It might not sound very loud to us, but it's quite the opposite for the fish living inside that poor tank. You wouldn't want to hurt their ears, would you?_

The answer had always been a sure, _no, dad_ , when she'd been younger. But now, faced with a creature that may very well have been the cause of her family's disappearance... Call it a moment of weakness, or a moment of vindictive anger, but Pidge felt very little remorse as she knocked her gloved finger into the glass not once, but twice. Thrice even, waiting several long seconds as a lump built in her throat.

She wanted to see it, see the face of the creature that had been skulking around, maybe even stalking them. She had to look into its eyes for herself and stare down the thing that had to be linked in some way to what was going on down here. It _had_ to be.

It was all well and good to convince herself of that on the inside, to reason that it was something she needed to do and she was ready for it. It was another thing entirely to catch movement out of the corner of the glass and see a ghost-like hand sweep out in front of her without warning.

Pidge flinched, and that was all it took. One blink and the next thing she knew there were two large eyes and an open mouth hovering in front of her. She yelped and took a reflexive step back before she could stop herself, heart racing.

_It's okay,_ she told herself _. No matter how big this thing is, the glass will hold. It's safe._

Pidge repeated that in her head over and over as she forced herself forwards, lips pressed into a thin line. Now that she was fixed under its gaze Pidge found she couldn't blame Lance for screaming earlier. Its eyes were just slightly too big for its face and even if its mouth looked human, its teeth certainly weren't. They were razor-sharp and pointed, definitely made for shearing off large chunks from a kill. Even its skin was slightly off and had an almost sickly pallor to it, too smooth in all the places it shouldn't be. Perhaps that's what made it so uncanny. There was just enough wrong with it to be off-putting once you took a closer look.

"What the heck are you," she murmured, frown creasing her features. She didn't expect a response; sound didn't exactly travel through thick glass with clarity, and even if it somehow had, there was still no possible way this thing could understand what she was saying.

But it did do something.

The mermaid's mouth opened and close slowly to draw water through its gills, but that wasn't anything to take note of (beyond the fact that it was a stationary breather, so it was likely an ambush predator or a scavenger). What really caught her attention was the way it seemed absolutely fixed on her, nose and hands pressed into the glass. It cocked its head slightly and turned, like it was trying to...what? Peer inside? Look at her?

Pidge felt her frown deepening as she shifted her weight and crossed her arms. Like clockwork the mermaid followed her movement. She blinked.

Huh.

She tried stepping right and just like before, its head followed her. The same thing happened when she tried left. When she came to a stop something in its throat _vibrated_ , some kind of vocalization she couldn't hear through the thick glass. If Hunk wasn't recording this, she swore...

Movement from the mermaid her drew her attention and Pidge watched as it pulled one hand away from the porthole and blew a series of bubbles at her. Like it was... _annoyed?_ Was that possible? The way it wrinkled its nose was unmistakably similar to the way her own looked in the glass's reflection, but then it did something else. It curled its fingers clumsily until only its index remained extended as it slowly brushed by its head.

Like it was pointing.

Pidge's gaze snapped up to the ceiling and immediately she felt foolish. Of course it wasn't trying to show her something, it couldn't even _see_ the interior above her head. Pidge turned a scowl on it and the mermaid blinked, but that's when she noticed a slight twitch of its milky white, right at the edges. Almost like some sort of...

"Membrane," she murmured, finishing the thought out loud.

Pidge leaned closer to try and get a better look at the glass when suddenly the mermaid twitched, as if hearing something, and turned its head away from her back over its shoulder.

"Wait...!" The cry was uttered completely out of reflex even knowing that there was no way to know if this thing even understood her, but it did turn back for one brief moment as it drew the same pointed finger by its brow. Then it pulled back and one fluid motion, disappeared from sight. Shoot, shoot, _shoot_. Pidge made a break for the next window but found it as empty as the first.

"Guys! Lance!" she called over comms. "Does anyone have a visual on that thing? It just took off!"

"I've got nothing, it went out of frame! I'm trying to turn the other cameras around," Hunk replied anxiously.

"Lance?" she tried, "what about you? Anything?" He had to have Rover out there by now. If they could at least figure out what direction the mermaid had gone, then maybe they could figure out where it had come from in the first place, if there were others.

_Others_. The thought had a startled chill running down her spine and Pidge unconsciously cupped her hand over her mouth. If there were more of these things out there...if there were enough of them, could that have been what her family had seen? Matt had said some _thing_ , but not whether he meant one thing or a bunch of them. The idea that there could be dozens, maybe even hundreds of these things lurking around out there was not a comforting one.

"That's a big ol' negative on my end," Lance's voice crackled in, shaking her from her thoughts. "Did you know it's freaking hard to launch an ROV while the ship's docked here? It took me forever to get it out without hitting anything."

"Unhelpful, Lance," she groaned.

"Well excuse me for not wanting to damage a million-dollar piece of equipment, hmph!"

Pidge rolled her eyes and turned off her communicator as she hurried into the main room. "Did you find anything yet?" she asked. Hunk's head snapped up to greet her, lower lip quivering. He looked about two minutes from either crying or freaking out, or both, and shook his head quickly.

"N-no, no, it's super-weird! No matter where I turn them I can't get a fix on it. It's like a ghost or something!"

"Ghosts aren't real," she replied without batting an eye. "Try sonar again. If you don't find anything then it's probably still inside the dead zone outside the station."

"R-right..." He pressed a few keys on the terminal and Pidge turned back to her wrist display, following the Komar's surveillance systems as they tried to zero in on their elusive quarry. It didn't make any sense to her. Creatures that big didn't just 'disappear.' It had to be out there.

They tried everything: sonar, proximity sensors, even had Lance take Rover on a full sweep of the perimeter. But when their allotted time at the bottom of the ocean came to and end, there was nothing to do but face the single, inescapable truth:

The mermaid was gone.

 

* * *

 

It was weird for Lance, going from a literal mermaid-slash-conspiracy-hunt to normal, everyday life above the waves. No one on board the ship knew what they'd discovered. Pidge had been adamant about that.

"My family didn't tell anyone what was really going on down there for a reason," she said grimly once they were on their way back up. "Altea's already been keeping stuff from us, we know that much. They could've mentioned that missing ROV any time before now, but Coran waited until just before we were about to dive to tell us about it."

"That guy seems like a bit of a scatterbrain on the best of days though," Lance had pointed out. "Maybe it slipped his mind?"

"Yeah, or maybe they were trying to avoid even bigger money troubles after the whole mission went kaput," added Hunk. "They were huge back in the day when it happened. All the newspapers were talking about it. And no offense, but these guys don't exactly scream 'evil corporate masterminds.' They're giving us a ton of freedom down here. I mean, they aren't supervising us at _all_."

Pidge frowned. "That we know of."

Lance squinted at her. "Has anyone ever told you you're paranoid?"

Altea withholding information was one thing, but deliberately monitoring them? Doing sneaky spy stuff? That seemed a bit out of the realm of possibility (and he wasn't even going to think about how ironic that sounded given they'd found an actual mermaid). Lance didn't know Coran or Allura very well, but they had taken the time to express their concern with the press releases and Lotor. That had to count for something, right? At the very least they were worried about them. It made sense after the mess that was the _Kerberos_ mission. They probably couldn't afford any more bad press at this stage.

He was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt until they actually did something shady. Pidge...not so much. She'd scowled at him in annoyance and socked him lightly in the shoulder.

"Shut up. I'm just saying we need to be careful from here on out. We don't know who my dad and Matt were trying to hide this stuff from, and until we do, we keep this to ourselves. Got it?"

Lance sighed. "Fiiiine."

It seemed like a bit of an overreaction to him, but if she wanted to be hush-hush about it and hold off until then he wasn't about to go blabbing about it just to make a point. They were a team now. Friends, even, if the last couple of weeks together were any indication. There were still gaps to bridge and leaps to take, but they were making steady progress and if keeping the world's biggest secret would help? He'd try.

It did make their arrival up on the _Castleship_ a whole lot more awkward when Coran came bursting onto the deck, bags under his eyes and a manic look on his face, telling him he'd cracked the footage and had to show it to them right away. Because, well, _obviously_ it was the mermaid. It had to be. Those teeth, the flashes of light... It was exactly the sort of thing they'd seen on their own cameras down below.

But they still had to _act_ like it was new information and Lance gasped comically, holding his face.

"No waaaay, deep-sea sharks? Impossible!"

Because technically, it was. See? Not a lie at all. And luckily for him, Hunk had his back.

"Uhh...y-yeah! Ugh, scary!" he added added, trying(?) to look uncertain.

Pidge shot them both an unimpressed look that Coran thankfully missed with his back to them, attention focused on the recording.

"I know, right? It's totally unprecedented! To think that there was complex life that far down... Chills you right down to your bones!" Somehow though, Coran still managed to sound excited. When he whirled on them not a second later, all three of them jumped. "You'll need to be extra-careful down there!" he declared. "There could be whole new species of large creatures we haven't even dreamed of down there. This one in particular was tough enough to take out one of our ROVs... Not exactly the sort of thing stockholders want to hear, if you catch my drift."

Did they catch his drift? Lance looked at Pidge and Hunk who offered little in the way of help and shrugged. "You...want us to lie about the shark?" he said slowly.

Coran blinked at him. "What? Heavens, no! Just try not to damage the ROVs down there, we're not made of money you know! It was hard enough getting the funding for one mission, let alone all the bell and whistles. If you three see anything down there you think might be dangerous, anything at all, you steer well clear of it! Understood? Your safety— _andthatoftheequipment_ ," he coughed quickly, "is our utmost concern."

Pidge jumped in before either he or Hunk could respond and nodded. "We will, Coran. Thank you. We'll do whatever we can to make sure the mission goes smoothly."

_Liar_ , Lance couldn't help but think, raising an eyebrow. If he hadn't known better he probably would've believed her too.

He felt a little bad when Coran's face filled with a worn sort of relief, mouth curving at the edges. "Right then. I'll let you lot get some rest after your long trip today. Debriefing is at oh-six hundred sharp, and then we'll plot our next course of action. Dismissed!"

"Oh man..." Hunk groaned as soon as they were out in the hall and walking, arms wrapped around himself. "Does anyone else feel bad right now? Because I feel pretty bad about all that. I mean...you all saw it right? It's the... _you-know-what_."

"Nope, definitely feeling kinda guilty over here too," Lance sighed. "You sure we can't tell these guys anything? You heard Coran... He was all freaked out and worried about us."

"Look," she sighed, pushing her glasses further up her nose, "the sooner we know what went on and who my family was hiding stuff from, the sooner we can come clean. Right now, we need to focus on what to do next."

"And what _are_ we going to do next?" Hunk asked warily.

"Well first, you two are going to take showers because you smell like old suits and sweaty socks," Pidge told them. "We'll meet in Lance's room when you're done."

Lance gawked. "What? Why _my_ room?"

"Because I know you've been sharing with Hunk for the last few days and mine's a complete mess," she replied without missing a beat, daring him to challenge her. He chose to glower instead, and that was how he found himself sharing the cramped quarters of his own room—meant for _one_ , he might add—with two other people.

The upside to this was, however, that he went largely uncontested when he claimed the bed for his own and draped himself across it, fighting back a yawn as Pidge typed away at something on her data pad. Hunk claimed the floor beside her.

"Sooooo...mermaids," he said once he was comfortable, lying his head down against the mattress. "Now officially a thing. What's our plan?"

Hunk lifted his hand. "My vote is, naturally, not getting eaten. I say we ditch the mermaid and solve our underwater mystery without angering the overlords of the deep."

"It was _one_ mermaid," Lance pointed out. "It's not like there's a whole sea-sciety of those guys down there."

"First off, we're not calling it that," said Pidge, "and second, we don't know that for sure. We shouldn't make any assumptions until we know more." She tapped at her data pad until it projected a small holo-screen in front of them. "I uploaded the footage and readings we took from the Komar today. Unfortunately, we didn't get any high-definition footage," she sent a glance Lance's way and he made a face at her, "but we've still got a lot to work with. Let's start there."

It didn't take them long to go through the recording. All together there was only about thirteen minutes total before the mermaid took off and disappeared. Most of the video was shot from the station's external cameras, and what few readings they'd gotten were, according to Pidge, "almost totally useless."

"I just don't get how something that big managed to slip by us. It's like it _knew_ where all the cameras were and how to avoid our sensors," she said, arms crossed and lips pursed.

"Maybe it's some sort of sea-genius," Lance offered, raising an eyebrow.

She sent him a flat look. "You know that you can't just add the word 'sea' in front of things to make it nautical, right?"

"Sure you can," he grinned slyly, already starting to list them off on his fingers. "There's sea food, sea horse, _sea me_ —"

Hunk cut him off quickly. "Okay! So _assuming_ that our mermaid actually _is_ smart enough to know about all our cameras and stuff, what does that mean?"

"We...say hello?" Lance ventured, hesitant. He was all for being the first person to high-five a mermaid and get international recognition, but not if it meant being eaten or anything first. He'd seen those teeth and wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to get in the water with it (see what he did there?).

"How do you say 'hello' in mermaid?" Hunk blinked.

"We don't know," Pidge grumbled, rubbing at her face. "We don't even know how it communicates. But I think that given the circumstances it's safe to say it does. If it can avoid both the cameras _and_ open the bait traps without breaking into them, then we're definitely dealing with something intelligent."

Hunk's brows furrowed. "Do you think...do you think it's intelligent enough to talk? Like, could we talk to it? For real?"

"I just said I didn't know how it would," Pidge replied, exasperated. "Given how far down it is I'd say it has to utilize some sort of bioluminescence, which of course we wouldn't see with all the exterior lights on."

"Hmm... Well what if we turned them off?" Hunk suggested, rubbing his chin. "We could try using far-red light, you know, how like they do for those super-angry squid?"

She lifted a brow. "You mean Humboldt squid?"

"Yeah, those guys. They can't see that end of the light spectrum, right? So it'd be like shining an invisible light on it only we could see."

Aaand they'd officially crossed the threshold into nerdy science that Lance couldn't make heads or tails of, wonderful. He rolled his eyes with a sigh and dragged himself up onto his hands and knees until he could reach over and pluck the data pad from Pidge's hands, for which he received an annoyed look. Whatever she and Hunk were talking about concerning light was involved enough that they'd be at it for a while, and no way was he going to spend the duration of that lost and confused. He had to do _something_ while they got their science on and going back over the footage from the Komar was an easy, distracting task.

As horrifying as it'd been when he'd first seen it, the mermaid was actually rather fascinating. Sure, the quality could've been better, but like this he could finally get a good look of it. Its tail in particular caught his attention, long and dark and powerful-looking even as it rested against the side of the station. The fins weren't especially long though. If he thought about it, it sort of looked like it had a shark coming out of its butt. The thought made him snicker.

For a terror of the deep though, it sure didn't do a whole lot. For most of the video it just hung around on the outside of the base breathing. It wasn't until Pidge's face came into frame that the mermaid actually reacted and moved over to it with what he could only describe as interest. The cameras hadn't caught more than a sidelong recording so he couldn't tell exactly what Pidge had done, but he watched as the mermaid lifted one hand, swish around a little, then turned abruptly.

_That must've been when I got Rover going_ , he thought. Probably spooked it if it could hear the muffled sound of the motor running. Or sensed it in the water or whatever.

All in all, it wasn't the most riveting recording. It was just the mermaid clinging, moving its arm, whirling around and moving its arm some more.

"Hey, Pidge," he called out, interrupting their conversation as he paused the video mid-gesture. "What's going on here, with this part? What were you doing with the mermaid?"

She frowned, confused, and held out her hand for the tablet. "What part? Let me see." He handed it over and watched as she rolled through it for a moment before recognition set in. "Oh. I don't know, it was doing something with its hand and I thought it was pointing inside the base for a bit."

"Pointing?"

"Yeah, you know," she nodded and then lifted her hand, tapping one finger against the side of her head. "Kinda like that."

Lance blinked at her. "Exactly like that?"

"I think so? Why?"

Most likely it was nothing, but something was eating away at him; something that said he'd missed something. Lance motioned to the tablet. "Pass me that one more time."

When she did he rewound the footage one more time, zooming in as best he could. The image was blurry and hard to see much from behind, but he managed to capture at least the positioning of the motion and stared.

"Pidge..." he began slowly. "When the mermaid pointed at you, did it do it like this?" Heart now thumping restlessly inside his chest, Lance pointed just his index finger and drew it to his temple, thumb tucked in and positioned so that it was closest to his brow. Pidge stared at him.

"I...yeah, I think that might've been it. Why?"

Lance had to swallow the lump of excitement caught inside his throat before he could speak, and even then, it took a conscious effort to keep his voice even.

"I think I know what to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo this chapter definitely wasn't delayed by real-life or the fact that I've been bingeing on FFXIV...
> 
> Apologies for the big delay, guys! I try to work 1-2 chapters ahead to make sure I have all my facts and bearings straight (I recently went back and combed through the whole fic to fix repeated words and a few inaccuracies). I started this fic about 5 chapters ahead, but it all quickly caught up, haha! So instead of weekly updates, I'm aiming for a much more realistic goal of one chapter every 2-2.5 weeks, RL permitting.
> 
> A bajillion thanks goes out to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or kudo last chapter. They all meant so much to me and I love reading each and every single one. It means a lot to me that people have enjoyed this story up to this point, so thank you very much!
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 I love answering questions or chatting about anything Voltron so please feel free to come by!
> 
> **Fanart:**  
> [Mer!Keith](https://dindorkenstein.tumblr.com/post/173950538190/hey-yall-its-for-mer-may-pterodotyl-3) by Dee  
> [Mer!Keith](https://dindorkenstein.tumblr.com/post/173950468120/doodles-and-stuff-3) by Dee  
> [Mer!Keith](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/174002693800/part-1of-1-and-%C2%BD-sorry-for-the-split-up) by Angiesocial  
> [First meeting](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/174002695495/from-shit-just-got-serious-part-1-%C2%BD-lance) by Angiesocial  
> [Lance sees Keith](https://dried-hycanthis.tumblr.com/post/174158978765/hey-its-fanart-for-the-dreaming-dark-by) by dried-hycanthis  
> [Garrison Trio](https://dried-hycanthis.tumblr.com/post/174159049890/mock-movie-poster-for-the-dreaming-dark-by) by dried-hycanthis  
> [Keith appears](https://kymmo-draws.tumblr.com/post/174560395601/tap-tap-tap-if-you-guys-havent-read-the) by Kymmo  
> [Keith appears](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com/post/174562185253/pterodotyl-slides-into-queue-aaaaaay-heres) by Dee


	11. Stray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always important to make a good first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas for this chapter: [Lena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins/pseuds/derkins) | [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) | [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13) | [Jemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard)

They returned to the Komar bright and early the next day with fresh bait and a plan.

"This thing only started showing up after we put out the traps, right?" Lance said once they'd all gathered in the main area, expression keen. "It knows it can get a free meal off us. So all we need to do is leave out a bunch of food, wait for the right moment, and then _bam!_ I work my underwater magic and we see how smart this mermaid really is."

It was an incredibly simplistic plan, but Pidge had to admit it had merit. All animals, humans included, were creatures of habit and liked to frequent areas they knew led them to food or water. Their mermaid might be uncomfortably clever, but the principle should still be the same. It knew where food was. All they had to do was wait.

"Alright, so we lay out some more traps. That still doesn't solve the issue of actually being around when it shows up," she said, crossing her arms in thought. "Having cameras around won't help us if we're not here to see this thing ourselves. We need to be present."

Hunk raised his hand slowly. "I...might actually have a solution to that," he said. "Coran's really pushing for us to get this place operational and begin transferring back the data from the _Kerberos_ mission. Especially with all that junk about the Teludav lens missing. They want this place up and running just as bad as we do."

"But don't we still have a ton of stuff to go through? I thought we didn't want them knowing what we know about this place," Lance said, confused.

Pidge shook her head. "I've been through the computers, remember? There's nothing on the system to indicate anything went wrong besides that ' _Unknown User_ ' report. The rest of it seems ridiculously clean."

Whatever had been going on at the base, her family had been meticulously keeping it off of Altea's servers. And as far as she was concerned, it may as well have been one giant, guilty finger pointed in their direction. They couldn't trust Altea Industries with what they knew, but they couldn't give them nothing either.

"Here's what we're going to do," she said, leaning forward. "If Coran and Iverson want the mission data we have access to right now? That's fine. They won't learn anything new from it anyway. We'll hand that over, and while they're busy going over everything, we'll stay down here under the pretense of getting things set up. We can comb through all the physical data while we stake out the mermaid and wait for it to show up."

"But what about actually setting this place up?" Hunk asked. "We still need to do that."

"If my father and brother left anything here for me to find, they probably wrote it in some sort of code," she said. "Most likely it'll be in one of the labs, so we can start there. We can clean things and get it set up as we go."

Lance wrinkled his nose. "That sounds like a lot of heavy lifting..."

"Aren't you like, basically an athlete?" she asked, skeptical. She'd seen Lance's usual training regimen and knew for a fact he was still going at least an hour a day in the _Castleship_ 's gym. "It's a couple of boxes and some equipment. You'll be fine. Hunk can help you after you're done with the traps."

"And what're you gonna do while we're doing all this hard work, huh?" He squinted.

Pidge smirked at him and quirked one brow. "Well, if _you_ want to sit down and go through five months' worth of handwritten reports for hours on end..."

Lance recoiled quickly and coughed.

"Have I ever told you how much I love moving stuff? It's like, my calling! I'm the best there is."

"Uh huh." Hook, line, sinker. Predictable Lance. "How about you Hunk? Does that sound okay?"

She could at least check in with him; he was much more agreeable than Lance when it came to this sort of thing, but he was also the sole mechanic. There was probably a whole laundry list of things he needed to get done as well, but at her inquiry he just shrugged easily.

"I mean...I guess so, yeah. As long as we're actually getting work done."

Pidge nodded.

"Alright. Then let's get to work."

 

* * *

 

Their next dive to the Komar was, unfortunately, not the thrilling and heart-stopping start to an epic monster hunt that Lance had envisioned in his head.

He thought they'd come down with scanners running, sonar beeping and the mermaid would just sort of... be there. Maybe there'd be an underwater chase, maybe they'd have a moment like in that one movie where the alien and that woman teamed up to stop an even bigger alien, but no. Here he was, putting out traps while Pidge and Hunk took turns blinding him as they calibrated each section of the Komar with their science-lights. One second the water around him would be bathed in a deep red-black, and the next it was blinding yellow-white beams of light that made his eyes water, even inside the _Derceto_.

If this was what it was like for the fish down here, no wonder they weren't coming around. He was still blinking tears from his eyes when he started his final sweep, gathering up the last few traps. Most had been emptied earlier, presumably by the mermaid, but the few that weren't contained more than a dozen abnormally-large shrimp that had him wishing he'd thought to bring snacks with him before he headed out. Even a bland protein bar would've been nice.

Lance couldn't help but feel a little envious as he opened the science door and carefully lowered one filled with scraps of chicken and turkey. What he wouldn't give for a decent club sandwich right about now...

At least he was almost done. Lance turned the yoke, and as he swung past the west end of the Komar, the mangled sight of the fourth installment came into view. It looked just as twisted and deformed as the last time he saw it, the supports dented on one side and bent so that what was left of the crushed sphere was angled away from the base. _Devastated_ didn't even properly describe the damage, he thought. A whole side of it had been ripped through, warped inwards like someone had taken a plasma torch to it.

It was a sobering reminder of what could happen at any given moment if the station's integrity didn't hold, and Lance took extra care as he angled the _Derceto_ for a slower approach, coming to a stop just shy of the largest breach in its hull, a wide tear that looked just large enough to fit through if he was careful. Rover would never make it in there, but with a properly calibrated pressure suit...

His curiosity getting the better of him, Lance took a chance and turned one of the _Derceto_ 's floodlights down through the gash. It was hard to make out much with the way mangled metal cast shadows every which way, but if he squinted, he thought he could make out a deformed clump of _something_ inside. Hoping that a different angle might help, Lance was just about to adjust the thrusters when something dark flickered in the corner of his vision.

His head snapped up instantly, searching all signs of the wreck in front of him. He leaned forward in his chair and tried to adjust the light, but when it caused the shadows to shift in front of him like dozens of dark hands, the tension seeped from his muscles and he sank back with a whoosh of hair, heart pounding.

Geez, he was going to be as bad as Hunk here in a minute. He was literally jumping at shadows. If Pidge ever found out he'd never live it down.

And speaking of...

"Hey Lance, you copy? Over." Hunk, right on cue. Lance exhaled a sigh of relief and reached up to flick on comms.

"Yeah, I'm here pal. What's up?"

"How're you doing with those traps? You got a minute?"

Lance nodded even though he knew Hunk couldn't see, already checking his readouts. "Yep, just about finished with the last of 'em. I've got two more on the west side before I'm done. What do you need?"

"Well, Pidge says she's been getting some weird feedback on the scanners, so we were wondering if you could go check out the receiver? Just to see if there's any debris or anything up there."

"Debris?" Lance cocked a brow, skeptical. The open ocean was the marine equivalent of a desert, it wasn't as if things regularly rained down from above.

"That, or it's out of alignment. Can you try—"

Hunk was still talking when Lance caught it again: another flicker of movement just on his periphery. To his credit, he didn't jump nearly so bad as before, but his gut clenched all the same as he focused the lights and let the _Derceto_ hang in a stable hover. There was no mistaking it this time; something was definitely there.

"Lance? Lance, are you there?"

Lance ignored the comms as his eyes swept over what little he could see of the interior once more, focused. If he just waited for it, waited...— _there_. His hands yanked on the controls and shot the flood lamps into the wrecked lab.

A sea of black rushed out to meet him and Lance screeched, flattened back in his chair as he watched dozens upon dozens of sleek black fish dart past the _Derceto_ , trying to escape the bright light. It was over in a heartbeat, leaving him stunned, chest heaving as he stared blankly ahead.

"Holy _frick_." _Fish_. Lance hated fish, he never wanted to see another fish as long as he lived, fish _sucked_.

"Lance? Lance, come in! Hey!"

Hunk was still trying to reach him. Lance wheezed and made some high-pitched whine in the back of his throat as he reached over to grab his comms mic again, bringing it shakily to his lips.

"H-hey Hunk," he rasped. "Sorry. Still here, still..." Staring ahead, hating his life. Near-panicking over monsters that now only probably didn't exist, on account of mermaids being real and all. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from around his mouth and shuddered, watching as the last few stragglers darted past the porthole, finally clearing his line of sight into the wreck once more.

And then he froze.

Where there had been nothing but indistinct grey and black before, there now was now a glare of white; white, in the shape of two round eyes and the top half of a face, upside-down and framed by messy strands of flowing black hair.

"Oh, Quiznak," he breathed, voice barely above a whisper as he watched the mermaid slowly curl one hand, then the other, over the metal surface a finger at a time.

_Well,_ he thought, _that explains why we couldn't find it on the scanners_. It hadn't run off before. It hadn't even left the dang station.

It descended from above, body sleek and boneless as it bent over backwards and curled towards him. Pale skin almost seemed to glow under the _Derceto_ 's lights as it crawled forward, mouth ajar and teeth glinting. Lance squeaked and shrunk as far back into his seat as he could, watching it pull itself across the shorn bits of metal.

Closer.

And closer.

_And closer_ , until one clawed hand reached out towards him.

"Oh cheese, _oh cheese_ —" he gasped, unable to look away as he groped madly for the switches above and pulled.

Everything went dark.

And then there was light: deep and dazzling, like ultraviolet on white.

Lance watched with mouth agape as purples and blue-greens lit up the water in front of him like tiny LEDs that followed the length of the mermaid's body. Markings on the upper side of its fins flared to life, illuminating it and giving it an almost otherworldly quality that drew him in like a moth to flame; the mermaid was frighteningly beautiful despite the way it had stopped, one arm extended towards the porthole.

As his eyes adjusted he could see that the mermaid was blinking rapidly, almost dazed. Had he blinded it when he switched on the far-reds...? Maybe Pidge was right, maybe it was hypersensitive to the light after all and he'd managed to stun it.

— _Orrrr not_ , he thought just a moment later as he watched it shake off its confusion and refocus on the ship. It only took a single breath for it to close the remaining distance and curl two clawed hands at the base of the window, ripples of soft greens running along the marks on its body.

It leaned in and Lance held his breath as its nose wrinkled, blank eyes searching, searching...until they snapped up and settled on him. _Really_ settled, as if it were seeing him for the first time.

The mermaid blinked once, twice, and suddenly the white of its eyes vanished. One moment he was looking at a bona fide horror-of-the-deep, and the next he was staring into what looked like a pair of very normal, very _human_ eyes. Or close to it, anyway. He could still see the eerie movement of thick white membrane in the corners of its eyes, waiting to slide closed at a moment's notice.

The change in the mermaid's demeanor was striking: no longer did it look blank-faced and uncertain. Instead, it stared at him with something akin to awe, gills fanned out and still. Lance gulped.

No sweat, he could do this. He was totally prepared for this moment and definitely wasn't gawking in the slightest.

"This is fine, this is juuust fine," he said quietly, slowly pushing himself up in his seat. "Just show the glowing fish-monster how awesome and likeable you are and it definitely won't eat you."

Yep, great pep-talk. Sounded just as believable out loud as it did inside his head.

There was nothing for it, though. He wasn't going to accomplish anything by sitting around gaping. It might not be exactly what they'd discussed, but he could improvise.

_Baby steps_ , he told himself, and raised one hand in a short wave.

"Uh...hi."

Nailed it.

The mermaid stared. It didn't seem immediately impressed (if anything, it looked confused), but at least it was watching him with what appeared to be interest. He chose to take that as a good sign and exhaled slowly. He flexed his fingers and came to an abrupt pause when the mermaid's eyes snapped towards the movement and the markings on its body pulsed a deep, luminescent blue.

"Oh, you like that huh?" He wiggled them again and more flickers lit up the water as its gills billowed out, vibrating. "Guess you're attracted to movement, that's not creepy at all..." he murmured, wetting his lips. Oh well. Time to make history...or something.

He held up his hand to the glass and very slowly curled his fingers until the tip of his index touched his thumb, forming an O.K. symbol.

"So...how you doing out there? All good?"

It felt more than a little silly to be talking to something that almost certainly couldn't understand what he was saying, but as it continued to stare at him, it was like something _clicked_ and the mermaid's eyes widened in surprise. It pulled both hands back from the glass and very slowly raised one up in a rough approximation of the same signal, only reversed.

Lance's heart skipped a beat.

"Do you remember these signs?" he asked, miming 'O.K.' and the gesture the mermaid had made for Pidge before.

Its gills fluttered and it hurried to copy him again, only this time it didn't just stop there. It cupped both hands together in front of it, markings pulsing a deep violet. Lance stopped breathing.

"'Boat,'" Lance said, awestruck. That was the motion for _boat_. He'd been right, this thing _could_ understand hand signals.

And Lance wasn't the only one blown away by this revelation. He was still reeling when the mermaid began moving its hands again, clearly excited if its wide eyes and clumsy gestures were anything to go off of.

"Wait! Wait, wait, stop!" Lance held up a hand and gestured quickly, levelling it off and raising it up and down a few times deliberately. "Calm down, there you go...that's it."

Lance bit back a laugh of disbelief as the mermaid actually did as he'd signaled, motions gradually coming to a halt. Both of its palms pressed flat against the glass and it leaned in, eyes bright and trained on his face. Like _he_ was somehow the novelty.

Bright blues danced along its body, filling the water around them. And despite all the instinct he had to the contrary, Lance found himself drawn to it. He couldn't explain it. It was if there were some invisible tether tying them together, pulling him in as he leaned forward until his fingertips brushed against the cool glass over the mermaid's own.

"You can understand me," he whispered, eyes wide.

_Holy carp_. Pun intended.

 

* * *

 

Pidge was beside herself.

When she'd sent Lance out on his errand to check the traps, she assumed it would only take him about half an hour to get it all done, max. Maybe forty-five minutes if he spent time goofing off. Then he'd come back on board, help Hunk with the heavy lifting, and when they were done, they'd start their mermaid hunt anew.

What she didn't expect was for Hunk to come running to her in a blind panic after only twenty minutes, saying he'd lost all radio contact with Lance. They tried over sixteen different channels and frequencies without success and she just about ready to start jerry-rigging a remote hijack on the _Derceto_ 's controls when Lance's voice came crackling over comms, breathless and excited.

"Guys! _Guys!_ Holy crow, you won't _believe_ what I just—"

" _Lance?!_ " Neither of them waited for him to finish. Hunk was halfway through stripping wires out of an old console and Pidge was already trying to patch through the systems on her data pad when they both froze in their tracks.

"Lance!" Pidge's hand slapped down onto her wrist, gripping the communicator. "Where the heck have you been?! Why didn't you respond? We've been hailing you for over twenty minutes!"

"I know," he tried, "but listen—"

Hunk grabbed her wrist before she could reply and she yelped in surprise as he yanked it up and began wailing into it. "Do you have any idea how worried we were? Not cool, man! I thought you were dead or passed out, or maybe you sank and you were trapped, and we'd have to come get you only we couldn't because you're the one who has the ship!"

" _Guys_ ," Lance stressed, still sounding elated despite their worry, and ohhh, if she ever got her hands on him she was going to... "Look out the main window! Seriously! _Trust me on this_."

She was going to...to...

"Oh my god, is that the mermaid?!"

Her head whipped around at the sound of Hunk's yelp, running to his side and winding up slack-jawed as she stared out into the inky-black water. There she could see the _Derceto_ , Lance waving animatedly from within...and the mermaid above, slender fingers braced against the hull.

"What the...I... I don't..." She floundered, speechless as her glasses slipped nearly all the way down her nose. " _How?_ "

"What? How did _yours truly_ bridge the man-fish boundary and make first contact with mermaid-kind?" Lance drawled over the comms, smug. "Animal magnetism, Pidge. Even creatures of the deep can't resist this."

"Laaaance..." Hunk began warily, staring through the glass. "You have the mermaid on top of the ship. Should we have a mermaid on top of the ship? It's staring at us. Why is it staring?"

Pidge spared a glance at their 'guest' and noted it was indeed watching them, the same unsettling blank eyes fixed in their direction. It seemed incredibly intent on what they were doing and Pidge fought back the urge to shiver.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Those are just the creepy eyes. Turns out, if you switch the lights over like you guys said? Totally normal underneath! It's...actually yeah, that part's still kind of freaky. Haven't really got used to that yet."

Pidge stared at him.

"But I— _you_ —where the heck did it even come from? None of the proximity alerts detected any movement!"

"Oh yeah, about that." Lance's voice perked up, and she watched as he jerking a thumb over his shoulder from within the _Derceto_. "Turns out the reason for all that? Was because this thing was hiding out in the old busted part of the base! You know, where the hull collapsed? It was just hanging out inside."

_Hanging out inside_ , he said, like that was some everyday normal thing. Pidge fought back the urge to drag a hand down her face.

"And, what? It just decided to become best pals with you?" she asked, throwing her arms out.

He shrugged. "I mean, yeah? Sort of? Maybe. Once we started talking—"

"Wait, talking?" Hunk gawked. "This thing talks?!"

"Well not _exactly_ ," he said. "Not like you or me. But watch this!"

Lance rapped his knuckles up against the front window and Pidge watched as the mermaid cocked its head and turned its gaze turned downwards, curious. A short twitch of its tail propelled it slowly forwards, body curving as it followed the bulge of the ship until it came to a stop in front of Lance, suspended upside-down.

That didn't seem to bother him though. If Pidge squinted she could see him...wiggling his fingers at it? What?

There was a pause where nothing happened for several seconds, and then:

"Oh, right. Hunk! Flick on the science-lights!"

At her side, Hunk jumped slightly. "The...what?"

"You know," he said. "The _science-lights_. The invisible ones for the squid?"

"He means the far-reds," Pidge clarified, already pulling up her tablet.

A single swipe was all it took to cut their visibility in half as everything became bathed in a swath of dark red. She could just barely make out the silhouette of the mermaid as it hovered in front of the _Derceto_ , idle, and as the inside lights dimmed to match the outer, Pidge heard Hunk gasp at her side as neon markings flickered to life all across its body.

"Whoa..."

"I knew it," Pidge murmured, watching the soft glow of the mermaid's body as it lit up the submersible in front of it with almost enough light to see by. It was still hard for her to make out any exact details even with the far-reds on, but that certainly didn't seem to be the case for their new 'friend'. It took just a few seconds for it to blink away the protective membrane from its eyes, and once it did it became immediately more interested in its surroundings, Lance in particular.

Thanks to the _Derceto_ 's interior lighting, she could see as he wriggled his fingers and the way it reacted in turn, placing both hands up against the porthole and blowing several bubbles. Dark blues flashed along its sides in a series of flickers that was mystifying to watch.

"Pretty cool, right?" Lance's voice cut in a moment later, eager. "And that's not even the best part. Check it out."

Pidge watched as him make some sort of gesture at the mermaid; a motion of his hands that she couldn't quiet follow. But whatever it was, it obviously meant something to the mermaid. It paused briefly before it turned in the water and faced them, upside-down and blinking. It looked just as bewildered as they did, right up until the moment its gaze settled on her face and gills on either side of its neck flared open.

It was startling how a single beat of its tail could allow it to cross that much distance so quickly; one moment it was in front of the _Derceto_ , and the next it was pressed up against the glass, eyes large as it moved its mouth in a series of rapid clicks that had them both yelling in alarm as Hunk's arms came up around her tightly.

"Lance...!" he cried. "Lance, what did you tell it, why is it angry at us! Tell it to stop, we're sorry for whatever we did!"

"I didn't tell it anything, I just said to turn around...!"

"Well it definitely looks upset! Do something!"

Pidge paid only cursory attention to their back-and-forth as they argued, eyes fixed on the mermaid as it started pointing with one finger again, insistently _up_ , _up_ , as if she could somehow understand its incessant chattering. Lights danced across its body, rapid-fire and random… _Or not_ , she realized with a blink of surprise. It was the same series, repeated over and over like—

"Morse code?" she whispered, stunned. And apparently loud enough for Hunk to hear her because he stopped trembling long enough to look down at her, face nervous.

"W-what...?"

"It's Morse code, it's _Morse!_ " Pidge squirmed, forcing him off of her and pulling up her data pad. How could a mermaid know _Morse_ code? It had to learn it from somewhere, it couldn't just be a coincidence, there had to be—

Dash dash, dot-dash, dash, dash...

Pidge gasped and went pale. The entire cabin seemed to lose pressure all at once. Suddenly she was dizzy, wobbling; only Hunk's strong hold kept her standing.

" _Matt_..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pidge, are you okay? What do you mean, Matt? Your brother? What are you talking about?"

"M-a-t-t," she said, voice sounding far away even to her own ears. "That's the light sequence. It...it thinks I'm Matt."

 

* * *

 

"I still don't get it." Hunk said, eyeing the mermaid warily as it hovered, restless, at the window. It hadn't budged once since catching sight of Pidge, even after Lance had docked the _Derceto_ and rapidly come aboard to begin gesturing to try and calm it down. "The mermaid knows Morse code _and_ sign language? How?"

Lance sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. It didn't seem as though he'd been making much headway.

"It's not using sign language, it's using diving signals. Back before we got the hang of underwater radios, divers used them to communicate during a dive." He placed his hands on his hips, looking stumped. "Not that it's saying much right now besides 'think' or 'remember.'"

Hunk stared. "You're not sure?"

"The sign has two meanings, okay? And I don't exactly have a way of asking it which one it means."

"Okay..." he said slowly, "so why does it know those?"

"Well, like I was going to tell you before it got all freaked out or whatever over Pidge—"

"It knew the _Kerberos_ crew," Pidge cut in, a look of deep concentration on her face. "And it doesn't know Morse code. It just mimics it."

Lance make a sound of protest. "I was gonna say that...!"

Hunk turned to Pidge, completely and utterly lost.

"Wait...what? I thought you said it did. That's how you knew it was saying your brother's name."

Pidge spared him a glance, light reflecting off her glasses. "I said it mimics it. It is spelling Matt's name, but it hasn't responded to any of the test-flashes I've sent back. It's like it only knows that one set of blips; every other sequence I've copied down from it appears to be totally random. They're not words at all." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "At least, not that we know of."

"So... How did it get just one word?" Lance asked, lifting a brow. "That seems way too specific to be random."

"Because it isn't," she said. "My dad and brother probably figured out that this thing communicates through those flashes it keeps making and taught it that pattern specifically. Like how you can still tell someone your name, even when you don't speak the same language."

"Oh...well that's good, right?" he said. "I mean, if it was out to get them, it's not like they'd go around trying to talk to it...right?"

Hunk certainly wouldn't have tried with something that unnerving if it was trying to kill him. He barely wanted to be around it now, even with the significantly less-creepy eyes it apparently had hiding under all that awful white. Its teeth were too big, too sharp to be anything but a predator's.

Pidge nodded, pensive. "The problem is that we still don't have enough information to ask it about the crew. Until I can study those patterns in-depth, it's basically just guesswork. We know it knew the crew and it thinks I'm Matt, but nothing else."

She sent the mermaid a glance and it warbled something against the glass, flashing impatiently. Goosebumps prickled his skin and Hunk suppressed a shudder.

"We're going to try and communicate with this thing...aren't we."

Lance grinned at him. "Yuuup."

He groaned. "And when exactly are we going to do any of the stuff they actually sent us down here to do? In case you haven't forgotten, we're still on a mission here, guys!"

"Re- _lax_ , Hunk," Lance drawled out, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "We can do both. You guys are almost finished up in the labs, right? The only thing we have to do after that is fill it with all the stuff they want us to analyze and get down into the trench."

"It's actually more complicated than that, but Lance is right," Pidge pointed out. "It shouldn't take me more than a day or two to put together something to analyze those light patterns. With enough data and exposure, I might be able to get a working translator going."

"Okay...but what about right now?" he stressed, motioning to the mermaid. It was still staring at them, looking frustrated as it mimed some other gesture Hunk had no hope of understanding.

"I...think we should probably tell it," Lance said haltingly, waving his hand to catch its attention. "It still thinks Pidge is Matt. We should tell it...y'know. That it made a mistake." He sent her an apologetic look, but she just shook her head.

"It's fine. You're right. Is there a diving signal for..." She faltered briefly. "'Gone'?"

"Not...exactly," he said. "We could probably try showing it a photo though. That might work."

Pidge nodded silently and Hunk reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. She flashed him a grateful, but weary smile, and turned back to her tablet.

As she swiped her fingers across its surface, the mermaid watched with interest. It didn't react to the nervous glances he kept sending it, but he attributed that to the fact that it seemed too engrossed with Pidge to pay him any mind. It seemed confused as she swept through the files until she could pull up a family photo, a nice shot taken at what looked to be the Aquanautics Garrison some years prior. In it, Pidge still had long hair and looked younger. Matt's arm was slung around her waist and they wore matching grins. Suddenly it very easy to see why the mermaid had mistaken her for her brother. With her hair cut, they looked near-identical in appearance.

She turned the screen so that the mermaid could get a better look and its eyes wavered on her for several seconds before it spared a glance to the photo. It was weird to admit, but it looked like it was earnestly studying it. Its mouth moved and more of the muffled sounds from earlier escaped, but there was clear recognition on its face as it pressed two fingers against the glass nearest to Matt's face.

"Lance?" she murmured.

"Oh—right."

Lance wedged his way in from the side and waved his hand until he caught the mermaid's attention. He began signing at it, first a gesture to his eyes, then a point at Matt's image on the screen, followed by the symbol which apparently meant 'remember.' The mermaid mimicked the latter back quickly with an eager vibration of its gills and Lance signed again, but this time when he indicated it was between Pidge herself and the long-haired image of her in the photo.

A frown grew on the mermaid's face as it blew several bubbles and signed something back, insistent, but Lance just shook his head and repeated the motions again.

Disbelief flit across its face as it turned on Pidge and peered close, and for all his misgivings about the mermaid up to this point, Hunk actually felt...well, bad for it. It looked upset. Genuinely, the same as any human he'd ever seen. None of them knew the exact meanings of the rapid flickering of lights across its body, but the expression on its face was uncertain. Hurt. Betrayed, even.

But that was all he was able to ascertain before it pushed itself away from the glass, fins flared out wide.

"Whoa, whoa—hey, wait," Lance said quickly. He tried signing something but the mermaid just sent them a hiss, and with a great beat of its tail it was gone, vanishing up into the darkness.

Quiet descended upon the room as they all stared at one another, uncomfortable.

Hunk cleared his throat.

"Well...now what?"

 

* * *

 

It was a question with no easy answer.

They didn't see hide nor hair of the mermaid over the next several days despite repeated trips to the Komar. True to Pidge's prediction though, the amount of time they spent on the station began to increase as more of it was outfitted and restored to working order. Lance had assumed that would give them an even better chance of catching sight of the mermaid again so they could try to make contact, but it seemed determined to avoid them. No matter how many baited traps he left out, not a single one wound up touched by anything other than bottom-feeders.

Once or twice while switching them out, he thought he caught a glimpse of something long and dark from within the collapsed hull. But anytime he brought the _Derceto_ over to investigate, there was nothing.

He couldn't say he blamed it for wanting to avoid them. It had obviously been excited to meet him when it realized he could communicate (sort of) with it. And the way it looked at Pidge when it thought she was Matt... Finding out she wasn't had probably been a big shock. He wasn't sure how close it had been with the _Kerberos_ crew, but if it was enough for them to swap names like that, it had to be more than just as acquaintances.

"Do you think it decided to leave?" Hunk asked, uncertain, as they were unloading boxes from the _Derceto_ one day.

Lance looked down at the pile of shredder beef MREs he'd started to pack into the kitchenette, squinting. "Probably not...? Pidge says none of the proximity sensors have picked up anything bigger than those snailfish things, so it's probably hanging out in 4-D like last time."

"It's been three days though... Do you think it's getting hungry?"

He turned to Hunk with a skeptical lift of his brow. "What, you're not still worried it's going to eat us are you?"

"What? No. I mean, yes, but that's not what I meant," the other man said, fidgeting as he set down two more large boxes. "Just...the way it looked when we told it Pidge wasn't her brother, man... Do you think it knew...?"

"What, that the crew's gone?" Lance pushed himself up onto the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. "Dunno. The _Kerberos_ is still MIA so it's possible they took it out and never came back."

"That's so sad..." he murmured, gaze falling the floor.

Lance mirrored him, sighing. "Yeah..."

"Imagine thinking they were finally coming back, but instead of that you just get these three strangers who only look like the people you thought they were... That's rough."

"You've been thinking about this a lot, huh?" Lance couldn't deny doing the same over the last few days, but he found it especially surprising that Hunk had too, considering how much the mermaid freaked him out. It had caught them all off-guard.

"I just keep thinking that we should...I dunno, do something? Which I know is weird because we still don't know if that thing's actually on our side and all that as far as the food chain goes, but..." He gestured vaguely and Lance nodded, leaning back against the cabinets behind him.

"But it's hard because it's kinda-sorta like us, if we were freaky fish monsters that lived at the bottom of the ocean and glowed?"

"Yeah. That."

When Hunk looked up at him with an unsure expression on his face, Lance smiled reassuringly at him and pushed himself up off the counter. "Hey, don't worry about it, man. No way that thing can resist all this charm forever. We'll be making interspecies history before you know it. Now c'mon," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "let's finish unloading these boxes before Pidge catches us slacking off again."

It didn't take long for them to stock the kitchen and check in with her; most of the MREs were still good from when the original crew had been down and didn't need replacing. They found Pidge in the 2-B lab with a messy spread of handwritten files laid across the floor in front of her and abruptly came to a stop in the doorway. It reminded him of the boxes upon boxes of equipment he'd found her with back on the _Castleship_ initially.

"Uhh...should we...?" he began, causing Pidge to look up with a blink, first at them, and then the rest of the mess. She shrugged.

"You can come in, just don't touch anything. Everything's filed in a very specific order. Any luck with the mermaid?"

Lance held back the retort that it looked more like a tornado had blown through than anything actually being sorted, eyeing the mess with great reluctance.

"No, I haven't gone out yet today. You do realize there's no place for us to step in here, right? There's more paper than floor."

She rolled her eyes and pointed. "There's a spot to the left, just be careful."

Lance spared Hunk a glance before gesturing him to go ahead. He did not look at all encouraged and made a tiny sound of distress before reluctantly pushing his way past to try. "How...how goes the search for that secret code? Find anything?"

"Not yet, although there's a couple strings of numbers that look like they might be something," she sighed, adjusting her glasses. "I've started narrowing things down to anything dated after the new year. That entry Lance found was dated about two weeks in, so something must've happened before then. If we can find out what happened in that missing period, I think we'll have a better grasp of what went on."

"And we're still not telling Coran or Iverson about anything of this...are we," said Lance, arms crossed and watching as Hunk's arms wobbled with his next great step, one leg stretched out as far as he could manage to find the next patch of free space.

"Nope." She didn't even blink, unfazed. "But we're about seventy percent set up down here now, so when we report in tomorrow, we can let them know we're ready to be stationed long-term."

He blinked. "Wait, seriously? I thought Hunk still needed to set up his water-farms."

"It's called hydroponics, and yes, I do." Hunk grunted, leaning over to latch onto the edge of a desk for support with his next step. "But we also just stocked the base with like, a year's worth of food. So we don't actually need it yet. Pidge's right, I think we're pretty much ready to go down here."

She nodded. "It's just the files in this room left over. I've moved everything over here, so 3-C's cleared and ready for specimen retrieval."

"And 1-A?"

"Hunk fixed the particle barrier yesterday," she said. "The saturation system is all ready in case you need to make a dive."

Lance couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face. "Oh, heck yes! Finally!"

He'd been waiting since they'd left shore behind to get in the water proper. And yes, there was still the issue of the mermaid to contend with...but he could _dive_ again. Feel the cold, reassuring pressure without the added bonus of a life-or-death scenario weighing down on him. Literally.

"So we're doing it?" he asked, anticipation gnawing away at him. "We're really going to be staying down here, like for real? Going into the trench?"

"The trench is still a little way off, but...yeah, pretty much." Pidge nodded and set another bunch of files down into a pile near Hunk's foot, making him groan unhappily. "First things first though, we need those—"

"Traps?" he finished quickly, eye bright. "Leave it to me! I'm totally on it."

Lance didn't even wait for a response before he rushed off. His heart was thrumming with excitement as he loaded into the _Derceto_ and made his rounds.

Normally he liked to take his time with it in hopes of catching a glimpse of the mermaid, but Lance was so caught up in the notion of getting to dive that he completely missed the two white eyes that followed his every movement.

 

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 05.11.2313.12.17_

 

"You guys—I just... _hah_. Oh man. You are so not going to believe this, I don't even know where to start!

"So you remember those super-rare sea sponges we've been collecting for dad's research? Well we just found a whole _colony_ of those guys down in the Trench! Crazy, right? We thought for the longest time that it was mostly bare, but they were just sitting there, hundreds of them!

"There's something really weird about their biology, too. We're not really sure what yet, but it's like...they _adapt_. Nothing that lives this far down should be able to survive in only one atmosphere of pressure, but it's been two weeks and counting and parts of it are _still_ alive. Totally freaky right?

"Pidge, if you're watching this I owe you twelve bucks. You totally called the alien sea sponges at the bottom of the ocean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bajillion thanks goes out to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or kudo last chapter. They all meant so much to me and I love reading each and every single one. It means a lot to me that people have enjoyed this story up to this point, so thank you very much!
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 I love answering questions or chatting about anything Voltron so please feel free to come by!
> 
> **Fanart:**  
> [Keith & Lance](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/175154916915/by-silvia-moon-glowy-keith-with-lance-d-oh-my) by Silvia-moon  
> [Keith descends](http://allen2nella.tumblr.com/post/175290812682/it-descended-from-above-body-sleek-and-boneless) by Allen2nella (animated, slight epilepsy warning)  
> [Lance teaches Keith diving signals](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/175506987735/please-read-from-right-to-left-a-million) by [トトさん/Toto](https://twitter.com/eeocc)


	12. Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red means stop, blue means go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas for this chapter: [Lena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins/pseuds/derkins) | [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) | [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13) | [Jemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard)

One month into their mission and things were going well. Coran would even hazard to say that things were exceeding his expectations on multiple fronts. Their motley trio had pulled together into a solid team despite initial hiccups, they'd found the Komar Station in more-or-less serviceable order with minimal structural damage, and even recovered some of the missing data from the previous crew. There were still a few slight kinks to iron out, such as the missing _Kerberos_ submersible and its crew, but overall?

It was going better than he'd hoped. Better than he'd dared to hope, even. He'd had reservations aplenty when starting yet another undertaking into the Kraydah Trench, but so far... So far it had been alright.

Coran knew it wouldn't last indefinitely. Though the mission had been set for a year, already he knew they were running on borrowed time; racing against a voracious clock that would happily see them run ragged into the ground at the first sign of weakness.

He was expecting Allura's call when it came in less a day after he'd sent off the ROV footage and wasted no time in patching it through on a secure line to his office, safe from prying eyes and ears.

"Coran." She sounded concerned.

"Evening, Allura. I don't suppose you're just making a social call at this late hour?" he tried, knowing full-well that it was anything but. The look on her face was grave and spoke to the weight of the responsibilities hanging on her shoulders.

"I'm afraid not," she said. "I just received the footage you sent over."

"Ah, yes... The team managed to salvage it from one of the missing _Kerberos_ drones. It seems as though we've got ourselves a bit of a, uh, shark problem."

"A shark problem. At over 4000 meters down? Coran." Her voice was both stern and skeptical, imploring. He sighed.

"We've had zero reported sightings this time around. Our estimates look good."

"And the _Kerberos_ vessel? Have you found it yet?" she asked.

He closed his eyes. "Not yet, I'm afraid. We're still looking into it. The Komar's almost fully operational though. We're set to begin diving into the Trench soon."

"Which I'm sure is exactly what they want," she murmured, frown deepening. "We must produce results before it's too late, Coran. It's only a matter of time before they find out what we're doing here."

"I know, Allura. I know. I've already begun monitoring all communications in case something comes up. If they try anything...we'll know."

"...Alright." She relented, but the look on her face was troubled. "Be ready to act at a moment's notice. If you begin to suspect anything..."

Allura didn't need to finish for him to understand the implications. He nodded, voice grave.

"I understand."

 

* * *

 

Lance dreamed of the dark.

Cold, empty, all-encompassing dark that pressed in on him from all sides.

It didn't frighten him. It felt familiar, like an old friend. As if it was the only thing he'd ever known. Lance let it envelope him as he closed his eyes and sank, down, down, down...until pressure forced the last remnants of air from his lungs. Lance's mouth opened and icy water rushed to fill it, dragging him under like a set of weights.

He was drowning, but it felt _right_. He belonged here in the depths like this, surrounded by endless stretches of inky black. The dark was home, the dark was safe. The dark welcomed him, called to him.

And then there was light.

Lance opened his eyes and squinted against the blinding source, a sphere of light in the distance. He started to kick his way through the water towards it, gritting his teeth. It was so bright, almost painful... The darkness tried to beckon him back but Lance strove forwards, fighting the pull as he drew closer and closer.

There was something there he needed to find. Something important, something he couldn't live without.

Lance reached out with one hand and hit metal, hard and solid: a wall, vast and endless, which seemed to stretch into forever on all sides. He could go no further.

That light though... It was above him, only a few leagues up. Some sort of window...?

He pulled himself up along its surface, blinking his eyes shut to shield them, but it made no difference; he could still see the rough outline burnt into his eyelids.

It didn't stop him. As he neared and strained his eyes through the brightness, he realized there were shadows on the other side of the tiny porthole—people. If he cracked his eyes open just a sliver he could make out Pidge and Hunk staring at him, clothed in their uniforms with mouths agape. They looked horrified, but try as he might to reassure them, nothing but bubbles poured forth from his water-clogged lungs. They recoiled from him, turning to a third figure between them.

He was tall, like Lance. He wore his diving suit and the Aquanautics Garrison emblem was sewn proudly into his shirt. But instead of his own face looking back at him, it was someone else. Someone he knew. A man with light skin instead of deathly-pale, like he remembered. His teeth were round and not pointed, hair thick but not messy.

Human.

And he stared at Lance like...like...

Lance recoiled from the glass is if it had burned him, and that's when he finally saw it:

Grey skin.

Black, rough slits on each side of his neck.

Sharp teeth.

And two white, milky eyes.

His reflection.

 

* * *

 

Lance's eyes shot open and he was suddenly, deathly still.

For several moments he remained tense and didn't blink, frozen in place. He watched the analog clock on the desk across the room as it ticked on, heart hammering inside his chest. It read 03:27.

Above him, Hunk snored.

Very slowly Lance drew his thumb over the joints between his fingers. _No webbing_. He ran his tongue over his teeth. _No fangs_. He brought a hand to his neck and traced the smooth column, feeling sweat and skin...but no gills.

Finally, he exhaled.

Just a dream. A really weird, really freaky dream.

 _What a great way to spend your first night underneath the waves,_ he thought miserably. _Couldn't make it even one night without Hunk there to help you_.

He'd hoped that a change of scenery might help, that he was past the need for that particular crutch, but apparently, he'd been wrong. Too bad for his sleep schedule, because it wasn't as if he could just go and share with Hunk now. It was the first night of a four-day tenure on board the Komar and the bunks were single-occupant only.

Lance heaved a sigh as he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge, rubbing a hand across his face. Sleep was going to be impossible after a dream like that; he could still feel adrenaline pumping through his limbs, filling him with restlessness and a need for movement.

Heading to the gym on the _Castleship_ would've been a no-brainer, but here he didn't have that luxury. The workout room here was one of the last things they'd gotten up and running before they were approved for an extended stay on the Komar. It was small, meant to fit within the size restrictions of the base, no more than a couple sets of weights and a treadmill. But it would have to do.

If he were back at the Garrison, he'd have access to their numerous swimming pools and pressure tanks. He could swim for hours and work on his pacing, breathing. He missed having that kind of freedom now that they were in open waters. It was painfully ironic: water for hundreds of miles in any direction, but nothing he could touch.

Still, a tiny workout would be better than nothing. Lance grabbed a set of clothes and a towel, doing his best to keep quiet so as not to disturb Hunk.

With evening hours came a shift in the environmental controls, quashing the overhead lights in favor glowing blue strips that ran the length of the halls to guide him forward. It was actually pretty cool if he thought about it, gave the whole place a sort of spaceship vibe. He'd wanted to pilot one, once. It was all he'd dreamed about up until the age of ten.

Then had come the commercials with Shiro at their front, promoting him as "the best and brightest diver the world had ever seen," and how he too could join the Aquanautics Garrison and explore the depths of the world's oceans. When he found out that more people had been to the moon than the deep ocean and that his newfound hero was spearheading the effort, his path was set.

He didn't regret leaving the world above behind for the one below. Lance loved the ocean and everything in it. Or well...almost everything. There were a few notable exceptions, such as the undead monster sea anemone living nearby that he was trying very hard not to think about. According to Coran they were still awaiting test results due to "sample contamination and inconclusive initial findings," whatever that meant.

He was just about to stop in at the kitchen to grab a bottle for his workout when movement in his periphery caused Lance to near-well jump out of his skin, jerking back from the window on his side. When all he saw was his own reflection staring back at him, Lance's face burned with frustration. He was reminded almost instantly of his nightmare and brought his hand to his neck again, gulping. _It was just a dream_ , he reminded himself. He didn't need to let it rattle him.

 _Not that there isn't plenty around here to be spooked about already_ , he thought wryly. Ever since they'd arrived it had been one weird thing after the next. At this point he wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that some sort of deep-sea body snatcher had secretly taken over the crew and turned them into underwater zombies. It would be par for the course with their experiences up until now.

The mermaid still refused to show its face around the base, Pidge had yet to find any sort of cipher or code in her family's notes, and not-so-obsessively pouring over Shiro's journal in a very non-fanboy way had revealed very little that they hadn't already known. After the entry with the weird scratched-out bits it had returned to normal, cutting off a month or so prior to radio silence with the crew.

Lance sighed and tipped his head back against the wall, taking several deep breaths to calm himself.

It was fine. They'd figure it out. There had to be a clue on this base _somewhere_ , he thought, staring out into the inky blackness that sprawled out before him. There had to be something they'd missed. A notebook, or a thumb drive, or—

A flicker of light in the distance derailed his train of thought and Lance stopped. He waited, unsure if he'd imagined it or if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but—no. There it was again: a series of slow, steady pulses that shimmered and died out as quickly as they appeared. He gasped.

No, no way. It couldn't be—

It was.

Lance held his breath as he watched the mermaid's pale silhouette gradually came into focus, pale skin catching the far-red's as it materialized from the shadows like some sort of spectre, arms tucked in against its sides and fins flared out wide, coasting. Its whole body moved in slow, almost imperceptible undulations from side to side that were almost hypnotic to watch. It looked like it rippled through the water more than it moved, and Lance remained deathly still as it continued to move towards his position, gaze fixed ahead.

The mermaid liked movement, that much they knew. Lance had made a joke to that effect involving cats and catfish that had fallen flat with Pidge, but he was growing on her, he knew. Just like...

"Fungus," he whispered, waiting until the mermaid disappeared overhead before scrambling from his position and practically sprinting to the other side of the station.

He rounded the corner and tore his way through the main room, vaulting himself over one of the desks in order to reach the portholes on the other side of the room just in time to see the red-tinted outline of the mermaid's torso as it drifted into sight from above.

It reminded him of the shark tunnel at the aquarium he'd visited as a kid. He could see each and every flicker that ran along its body as it swam by, the gentle sways of its tail propelling it forward effortlessly. It looked like it was flying, and Lance couldn't help but wish sorely to be out there too.

Just...you know. Without the risk of possibly being attacked or drowned if the mermaid got fussy about that sort of thing. He wasn't exactly one of its favorite people right now, and they still weren't sure how territorial it was on account of not being able to study it at all thanks to how badly it had taken the whole Pidge-Matt thing.

A change in its movements pulled him out of his stupor and he watched with no small amount of excitement as it curved and started swimming towards the ruined hull of 4-D with purpose.

"I knew it!" he hissed, smacking his hand into the glass triumphantly. He knew it'd been hiding out in there!

Lance immediately regretted his outburst when the mermaid's whole body twitched and suddenly snapped in his direction, a full one-eighty that had it staring with rounded eyes filled with surprise and alarm. Then it honed in on him with unsettling precision and its gaze narrowed, gills flaring out.

Lance offered a strained smile and waved slowly.

"Uh... Hey. Hi there, mermaid. Nice to see you again."

There was no way in heck it heard him, but Lance still mimed a greeting in the attempt of making peace...only to be rewarded with a hiss for his efforts as it darted away, vanishing into the wreckage.

He cringed. Not exactly the best interspecies exchange they could've had, but Lance wasn't willing to give up that easily. This was first sighting they'd had in two weeks; he couldn't afford to waste it.

That brought him to his number one problem though: with the corridor connecting the sections of the base long-since destroyed, he had no way of getting near it on foot. The only viable route was on the _Derceto_ , which he definitely wasn't supposed to be operating without full radio contact and backup. He knew the responsible thing to do now would be to wake Pidge and Hunk up, but that meant losing sight of the mermaid for too long. He had to risk it.

Lance grabbed his communicator and ran into the loading bay, strapping himself in without a second thought. Getting to the hull wouldn't take long, but he still had to be careful in his approach. If the stabilizing jets were brought too close to the ocean floor, it'd kick up clouds of sediment that would blanket the area for hours. He also didn't want to approach too quickly and risk spooking the mermaid out in the open; if it chose to dart off, he was very likely to lose it.

With that thought in mind he brought the _Derceto_ in slow and steady, gripping the controls tight in both hands. As he approached the largest tear in the wreckage he ran a quick sweep with the high-beams and wasn't surprised to find nothing but shadows. The mermaid hadn't exposed itself to them before, and it wasn't likely to now. He'd be better off with the far-reds.

He flicked a switch to change them over and locked the ship in place, unbuckling his harness to worm his way behind the controls, over to the porthole. It was a tight fit and the glass fogged up with every breath he took, but he could finally get a proper look into the hull.

There was still no sign of the mermaid.

"Shoot." Lance reached back around the controls for the flashlight he'd tucked under his chair for emergencies. The mermaid communicated with light, so if he could just get the right settings on it…

"Please work," he murmured under his breath, adjusting the wavelength and sending four short flashes into the wreck.

He waited with bated breath for several long seconds before trying again. Then again, each time pausing for about a minute in between. But when that failed to prompt any kind of a response Lance pursed his lips, frowning. Either their mermaid was playing hard to get, or he needed a different strategy. He had to think.

_If I were a mermaid living in the middle of nowhere and my only contact with was three humans, what would I come out of hiding for..._

Food? Yes, but that wasn't working anymore. Something else, then...something the original crew could've used to alert it if needed. Maybe a pattern? Lance could only think of one that he knew offhand, but considering it was pretty much a universal standard...well, it was better than nothing.

Lance adjusted the wavelength one more time before aiming it and flashing _SOS_ into the hull.

This time he waited twice as long, worrying his lower lip. It had to work. If there was anything they could've taught the mermaid, it had to be that. If it wasn't… Lance's hand tightened around the flashlight and he prepared to signal again when he caught it: movement from within.

He gasped.

"Holy crow that maybe worked." Raw excitement flushed through him and Lance almost dropped the torch in his attempt to repeat the flashes on yet another wavelength, and then another, until he apparently hit the magic setting and found himself under heavy scrutiny from a pair of dark, narrowed eyes. Normal eyes, not the freaky ones. Lance could barely contain his grin as he fumbled to turn down the brightness, sending it a single, tentative flash.

It did not draw the mermaid out of hiding, but it did twitch visibly, blinking the membrane of its eyes and continuing to stare at him. It looked...stubborn. That was the best way to describe it. It was frowning at him and didn't move to get any closer, even when Lance tried putting the flashlight in his mouth and signing a greeting to it. Instead, it curled its fingers against the twisted bits of metal and watched him with suspicion.

He supposed he couldn't really fault it for that. He'd been pretty freaked out when he saw the mermaid for the first time too. If it had tried to convince him to go out in the water with it, he definitely wouldn't have played ball. The mermaid didn't trust him. That was fair.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, talking more for his own comfort as he held up both hands. "You don't have to come on out if you don't want to. We can just hang out like this. You, me, this sweet flashlight I stole from Hunk..."

The mermaid's lips curled back in a hiss and Lance quickly waved his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. "Hey, hey! No, it's okay, it's cool. I'm not gonna try anything. I just want to talk." Or as close as he could get to it without having any concrete way of communicating with it. But since the lights had drawn it out in the first place… Lance slowly and deliberately brought the torch up and gave two lingering flashes, repeating the pattern twice with a three-second pause in between.

He wasn't exactly sure _what_ he was conveying to the mermaid with the flickers of light, but it was certainly having some kind of effect. Just...you know, not the one he was going for. The first few flashes made it recoil back and stop hissing, which was good, but then it began to gawk. Then recoil. Then scowl.

In a move that took him by surprise, the mermaid whipped its tail out and sent back a series of rapid flashes. Lance wasn't sure of the exact nuance there, but he was _pretty sure_ whatever it had just said to him was rude, but fine: if their fishy friend wanted to be sassy, then two could play that game.

Lance pointed the torch directly at the mermaid and mimed the exact same sequence back.

The mermaid _stared_.

As in, came-to-a-full-body-stop-and-looked-at-him-with-wide-eyes. It looked like a deer in headlights until Lance did it _again_ and it suddenly bristled, gills flaring open. It pulsed, brighter and more erratic, and Lance retaliated by copying it a second time. Then a third, and a fourth, going back-and-forth until it finally snapped and pulsed a full-bodied purple, garbling something at him and taking off into the wreckage.

Only this time? Lance could see its glow bouncing off the walls inside, giving him a direct line of sight into its hiding spot.

He grinned.

Lance: 1, mermaid: 0.

 

* * *

 

Pidge was not impressed when Lance returned to the Komar later that morning and told her what happened.

"So let me get this straight," she said, eyes boring into him, "not only did you go out on your own without telling anyone, but you also started _arguing_ with the mermaid?"

"I mean...half of that? It's really hard to tell if it what we were doing was arguing on account of us not understanding it at all, but I'm pretty sure I won." He crossed his arms over his chest, satisfied.

Hunk groaned. "Lance..."

"What? This was our first sighting of the thing in forever, no way I was letting it slip away!" He bristled. "Besides which, now we totally know where it hangs out thanks to me. And that it talks with light...probably."

"Because you went and harassed it." Pidge said, unimpressed.

"Okay, yes! But what was I supposed to do, nothing? It wouldn't come near us before and I totally just opened up a line of communication for us."

"Again, by bothering it."

Lance made a sound of exasperation " _Trust me_ , okay? The mermaid just needs a little tough love. Ladies love that stuff."

"You've never dated before, have you," she said flatly.

"I've dated plenty of times! It's going to work! Just watch!" He sniffed, sticking his nose in the air. "I'm going to go out there again, flash some awesome lights at it, and we'll be best buds in no time."

"That...or you've just seriously ticked off the mermaid because no big deal or anything, but _it's watching us right now_ ," Hunk said quickly, making pointed gestures at the window.

Lance and Pidge exchanged a brief glance before beelining their way over to get a look. True to Hunk's claim, a familiar pale face was poking out of wrecked lab, turned in their direction.

"Look what you've done, Lance!" he exclaimed. "Now we're being stalked!"

Lance balked. "Hey, I got it to come out of hiding...! And we don't _know_ it's stalking us. It could just be keeping an eye out. You never know."

 

* * *

 

The mermaid was totally, undeniably, one-hundred percent stalking them.

Every time Hunk passed by a window he swore it was there, whether it was peering out from the broken portion of the base, or hovering on the roof like some sort of deep-sea poltergeist. Its eyes remained _fixed_ on him no matter what task he was doing. When he looked up to wipe sweat from his brow after tweaking some cables? Mermaid. When he finished unpacking an old stack of reports to crack his back? Mermaid.

Mermaid, mermaid, _mermaid_.

And the absolute worst part about it was that Hunk was getting used to it.

At first, the sight of an all-too-human face gazing at him from the watery beyond nearly gave him a heart attack. It was there every time he looked up without fail, keeping a safe distance, but being no less blunt about the way it studied him. Them.

Because oh yeah, it wasn't just him that Lance had trained the mermaid on. It was all of them. And it watched them like a hawk.

A pale, slimy-looking hawk.

...Alright, so maybe _slimy_ was a bit of an exaggeration. But it was still _very_ discerning to glance back over your shoulder and find some kind of angry fish...person...staring at you from behind.

The thing was though, as one creepy day turned into two, then three, Hunk found himself anticipating the concentrated gazes and no longer flinched when he caught the mermaid looking. It was still unnerving, sure, but it never actually did...well, anything. It didn't try to attack them or mess with their equipment, and if Lance went out in the _Derceto_ , it quickly slipped back into the ruined hull and wouldn't come out until the submersible was locked back in place.

If he had to guess, he'd say it was feeling them out; trying to decide if they could be trusted. Or that that's what he hoped, anyway. The other possibility was that it was trying to lure them into a false sense of security and eat them, but that theory was becoming less and less likely they longer they spent in its company.

"I think we should stop leaving out the traps," Lance told them on their final day.

Hunk blinked at him.

"Stop leaving out the traps...? Why?"

"They're not working for one," he said, "and I think they're actually keeping the mermaid away."

"You mean because it knows we knows it wants the food inside," Pidge guessed.

He nodded. "Exactly. I say we try putting the bait inside its home, no cage. Like a peace offering. Show it we aren't going to try and trick or trap it or anything."

She made a thoughtful sound. "It's worth a shot... Nothing else has worked since you ticked it off. We might as well."

"I think you mean since I worked my fish-whispering magic," he corrected.

She made a face. "Ugh. Just go leave the bait and report back when you're finished. I need you and Hunk to swing by the Trench and set up a hydrophone for me before we head back."

"Roger that, Number Three. Leave it to me!" He gave a sweeping salute, turning to Hunk. "C'mon, Hunk. Come feed ol' Red and save me a trip back to the base."

"Ol'...who? What's red?" Hunk said, confused.

Lance sighed dramatically. "Uhh, the mermaid? We can't keep calling it 'the mermaid', that's weird."

Hunk wrinkled his nose. "No, what's weird is you naming it. Why 'Red'? It's not—"

"—Red?" he broke in. "I know. But it's the color of light we've been shining at it so we don't blind it. It fits!"

Hunk turned to Pidge and she shrugged noncommittally, causing Lance to groan. "We're calling it Red, end of story! Now let's get going already."

Loading up all the equipment they'd need for Pidge's hydrophone into the _Derceto_ was an easy task, but Hunk could already feel his nerves starting to act up as they drew near to the collapsed hull. Being watched from the safety of the base was one thing, but actually seeking it out was something else entirely. Hunk wouldn't say he was scared per say, just...appropriately nervous.

"Pidge, any sign of Red?" Lance asked upon their approach.

"Yup, just ducked right inside 4-D as soon as you powered up the engines," came her prompt reply. "You're all clear. If its pattern of behavior holds up, you should have at least an hour or two to get set up at the Trench."

"Ten-four, delivering the package now."

Lance turned the yoke and extended the manipulator arm from the ship as he brought it into position, and Hunk watched with bated breath as it slowly lowered a hock of meat into the opening. Part of him half-expected the mermaid to come zipping out of nowhere and snatch it, but nothing happened. Lance lowered it into the hull and withdrew the arm without interruption.

"Do you really think it's still upset at us?" he found himself asking, turning away from his monitor to look over at Lance. "I know it wasn't happy when it found out we weren't the old crew, but..."

"Honestly man? I have no idea," said Lance. "But all we can do is try, right? If Red wants to hold a grudge forever, that's on her."

Hunk blinked. "...Her?"

"Uhh, yeah? Red's totally a girl. Otherwise people wouldn't call them mer _maids_ , Hunk. Geez."

Hunk was pretty sure that wasn't how that worked at all, but he didn't bother correcting Lance and just sighed as they pulled out from the station to make a course for the Trench. The whole _mer-maid_ versus _mer-man_ thing was a can of worms for another day when they weren't about to set up a bunch of highly-specialized equipment worth more than his entire apartment. Getting to the edge of the drop-off and making sure the _Derceto_ was locked into a stable hover would be difficult enough.

The water here didn't move fast like up on the surface, but there were currents which travelled across the ocean floor and poured slowly into the gaping maw of the Trench, a massive underwater canyon more than sixty kilometers across and ten deep, according to their sonar. A single misstep could push the _Derceto_ out of alignment and force them to start the whole operation over. Their measurements needed to be exact, down to the last centimeter.

"Alright, looks like you're all set in here," said Lance, removing his harness and standing. "I've got autopilot on to help in case anything goes wonky, but it should be fine."

"Relax man, I know how to pilot the ship. Go grab your suit already," Hunk said, pulling himself out of his own chair and moving over to Pidge's empty station to check the readings. "Pidge, come in. You copy? Over."

"Loud and clear. There's still no movement at the base. Are you guys in position?"

"Just about. Lance is suiting up and I'm going to help with the calibrations. It shouldn't take us more than an hour," he said.

"Roger that. Standing by for your signal."

Hunk moved back into the cabin to where Lance was already pulling on his suit, one arm extended as the strange material parted and knit itself around his limb, following it inch by inch over the rest of his body. It melded to him like a second skin that stopped just shy of his chin.

"That is never not going to be freaky to watch, dude," he said bluntly.

"I think you mean it's never not going to be totally awesome," Lance drawled with a grin. "It's science, Hunk! You love science."

"I love engineering," Hunk corrected, passing his helmet and watching with a mild shiver as the suit adapted and conformed to it, all traces of a seal vanishing entirely. "Well? How's it feel?"

"Kind of like being naked, actually."

He groaned. "Lance, gross. That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Lance grinned. "All systems seem normal, give is good. Calibrate me, buddy." He threw open his arms and Hunk rolled his eyes, unable to keep the fond smile from curling his lips as he plugged a cable into a port on Lance's back between his shoulder blades.

Lance was a dork on the best of days when it came to his passion, but Hunk had to admit...it was nice to see him letting go and truly enjoying himself. Whatever had spooked him on the _Castleship_ finally seemed to be losing its hold. Hunk was glad he was starting to act more like his usual self again. He'd missed carefree, impatient Lance.

"Aaand that about does it. You're all set for a variance of about a hundred meters," he reported, standing back and winding back up the cord. "I've already got the equipment loaded into the pressure chamber, so you're good to go."

Lance flashed him a thumb's up as he made his way over to the hatch and stepped past the heavy door, leaving Hunk alone in the cockpit as it sealed shut. There were a few tense seconds where he waited for the HUD to report that the hatch had been opened and chewed his lower lip, worried. Logically, he knew it would be fine. They'd done the pressure training over and over at the Garrison and all the ship's seals had been in place. His suit was calibrated. He'd be fine.

He still let out a breath of relief when he heard the beep signalling the hatch release, followed a series of muffled bumps against the underside of the ship. Seconds later Lance appeared, a long bundle of cable looped over one shoulder and a plastic kit in hand.

"Alright, I'm outside and getting into position. What's next?" he asked over the comms.

"You need to position it at the edge of the Trench in order for me to get the most accurate readings," Pidge responded. "You'll need to assemble a mount and then attach the hydrophone, making sure everything is set up exactly. After that, all you need to do is lay the relay cable."

Lance saluted to essentially just Hunk. "Set up a thing, put down some wires. Got it!"

Hunk could hear Pidge sighing as he watched Lance get to work, carefully setting down both the cable and the kit and starting to pull out the pieces. It probably wouldn't take him long to get it assembled since it had been designed with ease in mind, so Hunk turned his attention back to his own tasks and began making the necessary preparations.

"I'm switching on the high-beams, watch your eyes," he warned, flipping the switch.

Light shot out and brought the entire sea floor to life, illuminating fans of deep-sea corals and bunches of sea stars in every given direction. Flatland stretched for hundreds of meters in all directions around them, save one: the Trench.

From his vantage point Hunk could just barely see over the edge where visibility gave way to inky black and all traces of light vanished. Not that he minded on account of being terrible with heights, and all that, but...still. He could hear Lance groan in complaint as he lugged the hydrophone stand towards the cliffside, slow and steady.

He was just starting to go through the computer's readouts when there came a brief thump from below, drawing his attention as he looked down at the floor between his legs.

"Um..." Okay, that was really weird. But no big deal, right? Probably just the usual creaks and _groannnope_ , there it was again; scuffling, like something kept bumping against the underside of the ship. And that definitely didn't make any sense. Lance was in front of it, not under. He couldn't be making that noise.

Hunk lifted one foot experimentally and nearly jumped right out of his skin when the bumping started coming towards him, hastily yanking both feet up onto his chair with a yell.

"Gaaaaah, guys! Noise! Crawling-thing, crawling-thing noise!"

"What?" Pidge's voice crackled over the comms, but Hunk's eyes were fixed on the floor, wide and following the sounds of crawling against the ship as it passed under him and headed towards the helm. "Hunk? Why are you yelling, I can't hear Lance."

A large, black fin cut in front of the porthole and Hunk's jaw dropped.

"Oh shoot, _Lance!_ Ohhh no, oh no no no—" His hand shot out, grabbing the onboard mic. "Lance! Mermaid, _mermaid!_ "

 

* * *

 

Putting together the stand for Pidge's weird sea-microphone was way easier than they'd made it sound. _Make sure you align it exactly Lance, it won't work if you don't_. _Don't break anything, this cost fourteen thousand dollars to make!_

...Actually, they probably had a point with that last one. He should probably be a little more careful with how he handled it. He didn't exactly have that kind of cash lying around. Though come to think of it, for such a high-stakes mission they really weren't getting paid much. Not that the usual standard for deep-sea diving wasn't comfy, but it felt like they should be getting something cool and extra for this. Like sunken treasure. Or a speedboat.

He clicked two poles together and let out a whimsical sigh. If he showed up with one of those babies on a nice summer day, beach full of hot singles just waiting for a ride...he'd be a total babe magnet. Or dude. Dudes would be cool too, couldn't count out the buff lifeguards.

Thinking about that made the fact that he was way down at the bottom of the ocean laying hydrophone cables, of all things, all the more surreal for him. He may as well have been on another planet compared to the rest of the world.

"Alright Pidge, just about ready to set this bad boy down. I'm gonna head to the Trench now," he reported, feet kicking at the water to carry him forward.

"Copy that. Let me know when—" The line went silent.

Lance blinked.

"Uhh...Pidge? Helloooo?" He came to a stop and floated in place, tapping the side of his helmet. "Everything alright over there?"

When there was no reply he moved to adjust the settings and found himself doubling over when Hunk's panicked yelling flooded his suit at twice the normal volume.

" _—OISE! CRAWLING-THING, CRAWLING-THING NOISE!_ "

Lance's eardrums where officially dead.

" _WHAT?_ "

No, scratch that, now they were dead. Pidge's voice was just as loud and Lance hastily turned the volume all the way down, groaning in misery when he realized he could hear the telltale sound of ringing in the back of his head. So that was back again. Awesome. He swore, if this all was Hunk freaking out over sea pigs getting in the intake valve again...

"Lance! Mermaid, _mermaid!_ "

Wait, what?

Lance turned around and nearly shrieked when he saw two large white eyes and a lithe, dark body headed his way, cutting through the water like it was nothing. Alarm gripped his muscles and froze them in place, which in retrospect was probably a good thing. Ambush predators tended to react in a not-so-great-way to fast movement.

It still didn't stop the jackhammering inside his chest as it closed in on him though, fins and gills flared out wide.

"H-Hunk, Hunk! The lights! Turn off the lights!" he wheezed, a deer caught in headlights as the mermaid opened its mouth and bore down on him with teeth bared.

He yelped, falling back into the sea floor and kicking up a cloud of muck. The world around him went dark and Lance gasped, flattening against the sea floor as his heartbeat pounded inside his skull. He couldn't see anything. Feel anything. Hear anything.

And then there was light. Light, in the form of bright, dazzling flickers of soft blue that raced across patterned lines and spots. Twin lines on either side of his face—the mermaid's arms—came to life with a hazy luminescent glow, flowing up its limbs and down its body as the markings on it burned to life one by one, like tiny flares. It was almost ethereal.

But what truly captured Lance's gaze was the two round eyes mere inches from his own, dull and dark in the contrasting light.

The mermaid.

Red.

He let out a soft gasp and felt his limbs give out against the muck, but the water kept him from falling. All he could do was stare at the mermaid, who looked just as surprised to be in this position as he was, lips parted but no snarl upon them.

He didn't understand what was going on. Sure, he hoped that turning off the lights would give it a chance to recognize and (hopefully) decide not to eat him, but this was...weird. Neither of them seemed to know what to do or how to react until Pidge's voice crackled through his helmet.

"Lance! Lance, do you copy?"

The mermaid suddenly pushed back from him as if it had realized what it was doing, fins flared open wide and defensive. Lance found himself gawking. Red was _huge_. Like—not giant huge, but long. Easily his height and then some thanks to the tail, maybe even more. He'd always known Red was big, but seeing it through a window and seeing it in person were two very different things.

"Uhh...yeah," he finally managed, entranced as he slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position. "I'm okay."

The mermaid was still watching him, glow darker and dimmer in color now as Lance gathered himself. He wasn't sure what it was waiting for, but its eyes were trained on him like a hawk as he lifted one hand and waved tentatively.

"Hi?" he tried.

The mermaid's gaze narrowed slightly and it didn't signal back. Instead it slowly lowered itself towards the sea floor, away from where Lance had kicked up a cloud with his flailing, almost eye-level with him. It fingertips skirted the silt below much the same way they had when it had been so contently perched on top of their ship as the markings on its body turned a deeper, more violet color.

"Um..." Lance shrugged a little helplessly. "I'm not really sure what to do with that, so..."

Red probably didn't understand any of that either, but if it wasn't here to attack him... He tried pushing himself back up proper and was relieved when the mermaid didn't move to attack, remaining poised and coiled where it was. That was a good sign, right? It looked annoyed and wary, but not outright hostile.

So he tried reaching one hand out towards it and squeaked when it snarled at him, hastily yanking it back.

"Alright, no touching...that's cool," he said, gesturing quickly. "I'll just stay nice and over here, yeah? Just gonna go put this thing on a...thing."

Lance reached down to gather up the fallen poles for the stand, going slow and telegraphing his movements so as not to startle it. And it went rather well, right up until the point where Lance tried to move backwards towards the trench and Red pushed up off the ground, baring its fangs with a hiss.

Both hands went up immediately and all his equipment fell to the ground. It glared at him and he held completely still as it beat its fin, circling him so that he had to turn his head to follow it.

When two hands dug into his shoulders without warning he squawked, arms waving wildly in the water in a moment of panic.

This was it, this was the end. Whatever he'd done, he'd pissed Red off for real this time and now he was going to pay the price.

...That's what he thought, anyway, right up until the moment he realized it was dragging him out of the sediment cloud and back towards the submersible like some sort of misbehaving child.

Insult colored his cheeks and Lance began to sputter, wriggling for freedom when the mermaid suddenly released him without warning and sent him somersaulting through the water. It took several waves of his arms to gain back his equilibrium and right himself, and by then the mermaid was already there, blocking his path and looking annoyed. As if _it_ was the one inconvenienced by all this.

"Excuse you...! What was that? I'm trying to get work done here!" he said, pointing a finger accusingly.

Blue light danced along the mermaid's body and it curled towards him, unfazed.

"Uh-uh, don't you blink at me like that! I'm moving delicate equipment here! It's very complicated!"

Obviously the direct route wasn't going to work here, so Lance tried swimming to the right to get around it...and was blocked by torso. Left got him a tail. He tried _above_ , and like clockwork two strong hands latched around his ankles, preventing him from kicking as the mermaid dragged him back down to the ground and punctuated his landing with a sharp _thwap_ of its tail across his back.

Like it was reprimanding him, of all things.

Lance whirled on it.

"Listen, you...!"

"Uhh, Lance?" Hunk's voice cut in. "Sorry to interrupt whatever it is you're doing out there with the mermaid and all, but—"

"Not now, Hunk! I'm about to mer-mince this fish into a pile of...of fish-mince!" he said, making angry gestures with his hands at the not-at-all threatened mermaid. It stared at him flatly, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"You said mince twice," Hunk pointed out.

Lance yelled in frustration.

"I know what I said! That's why I said it!"

" _Guys!_ " Pidge yelled, interrupting them both. "Stop arguing and turn on your scanners already!"

Lance obeyed with a grumble and almost immediately jumped as a string of high-pitched croaking and whistling filled his ears, like a sonar ping, only stretched and strained. The ringing in his ears worsened.

"Pidge, what the heck! Are you trying to make me go deaf? Turn that down!"

"It's not me," she said, voice excited.

Lance rubbed the side of his helmet, groaning. "What...?"

"We're not the ones making it. We're receiving it! It's coming from the Trench. Something else is making that signal."

 _Something else_.

Lance turned to glare at the obvious suspect but found the mermaid's head pointed away from him towards the cliff, lip curled back in a growl as the color tones on its body shifted from deep purples to almost black, turning the water dark.

Another stretch of the distorted noise rang through his helmet. The mermaid bristled, hissing as its fins tucked in around its body instead of fanning out. Like it was trying to make itself smaller and less visible.

Dread began to seep into his limbs.

"Guys...I don't think the mermaid's the one making it," he said slowly.

"What?" Pidge sounded confused. "Are you sure?"

The mermaid's head snapped in his direction and it clenched one hand into a clumsy but firm fist, shoving it towards the cliff.

_Danger. That direction._

"Oh yeah," he swallowed. "I'm sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP this fic pretty much exploded since the last update?? I can't believe the overwhelming amount of feedback I've gotten about this! Thank you all so much, it means the world to me. Every comment, kudos, ask, message, it all helps. I could never have imagined I'd get the kind of response I have when I started writing this. I'm incredibly humbled and hope that you'll all stick along until the very end (which I have begun to draft out proper in note-form as I type this!). So rest assured, this fic is getting finished :) We've got a long way to go.
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 I love answering questions or chatting about anything Voltron so please feel free to come by!
> 
>  **Fanart:**  
> [Lance teaches Keith diving signals](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/175506987735/please-read-from-right-to-left-a-million) by [トトさん/Toto](https://twitter.com/eeocc)  
> [Keith peeks in on the crew](https://hukkasiipi.tumblr.com/post/175823342100/a-drawing-inspired-by-a-great-fic-called-the) by Hukkasiipi  
> [Keith](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/175838666345/imsuchtrashhelp-merkeith-from-pterodotyl) by Space.Cadet


	13. Dredge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware the deep, where no sun goes.  
> Beware the deep, where nothing grows.  
> Take heed the lights that watch with eyes,  
> The maw that gapes in friendly guise.
> 
>  **[edit]** made an error while uploading it the first time, sorry for the double-posting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas for this chapter: [Lena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/derkins/pseuds/derkins) | [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) | [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13) | [Jemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard)

The sonar irregularities had been going on for over twenty minutes by the time Pidge noticed the large spikes on her echosounder and nearly dropped her coffee mug in shock. The sharpness of the pings, the erratic nature of the signal, it was so similar to the strangeness she'd glimpsed in the readings and reports left behind by the _Kerberos_ crew at first glance, that her heart leapt and her breathing stopped.

She'd spent hours pouring over those graphs and charts, looping their tracks endlessly and listening with keen ears, trying to discern what could possibly have made the copycat signal.

But this... This wasn't that. What the  _Kerberos_ had recorded had been distorted, but refined.

This signal was unnatural. Like someone had tried to mimic the base's sonar but gotten it all wrong.

"It's not the mermaid!" Lance's voice crackled in over the comms. "It's coming from the Trench!"

 _It doesn't make any sense_ , she thought, hands flying over the keyboard in a flurry of strokes. Even as she filtered out all of the active sonar from the base and zeroed in on the distortion itself, the signal was still too strong to be made by anything down in the Trench. For it to be this distinct, this clear at such a low depth, whatever was making it had to be...

 _Oh_.

_Oh, no._

Pidge gasped, all color draining from her face.

"Lance! Hunk! You have to get out of there _right now_ —get back in the ship!"

 

* * *

 

Lance startled at the sound of Pidge's panicked voice, head snapping back towards the _Derceto_...or at least, where he thought it was. He couldn't see anything farther than a few feet now that Red had changed color, and his nerves were starting to eat away at him like a swarm of hungry gnats.

"Hunk...!" he called out.

"I gotcha buddy, hang on!"

Blinding light flooded the area from his left and Lance shielded his face, squinting against the intensity after so long in the dark. His vision burned and spots danced before his eyes as he swam towards it, one hand outstretched and waving blindly in the water for the hull, when he felt something grab his wrist and tug him forward.

For one harrowing moment his eyes snapped open and he tried to jerk himself back, but the sound of hasty clicks and hisses brought him back to reality. Stunned blue eyes met filmy-white as Red gave his arm another tug and hoisted him up through the water, over the ship to where the release hatch lay. It didn't even occur to him to question why the mermaid knew where he needed to go; as soon as he was close enough Red released him and Lance grabbed onto the hull.

"Th...thanks," he managed out, stupefied.

Red frowned at him. It was not the look of someone angry or incensed, but rather someone focused and alert. It motioned clearly with two fingers as it signed to him.

 _Get with your buddy_. _Go that way._

It was pointing back in the direction of the Komar.

Lance stared, mouth ajar. "Wait, what about you?"

"Lance!" Hunk's worried voice blared over his speakers, interrupting him. "Lance, we gotta go, man! Get inside!"

"But Red—" he tried, only to be cut off by another, louder drone of the stilted sonar. A chill ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck and arms bristled.

That...sounded closer.

Hunk whimpered. "What _is_ that?"

"I don't know, I can't get a read on it," said Pidge, voice urgent. "It's using the Trench like camo—"

Lance never heard what came next.

Pidge's voice faded like white noise in the back of his head as Red suddenly bristled at his side, turning a deep shade of ultraviolet. Some part of Lance's brain was dimly aware of the way every fin tucked in close to its body, becoming sleek and nearly impossible to see in the inky blackness.

And then that moment was gone, replaced by a creeping sense of terror that seized his limbs and rendered him immobile as something emerged from the mouth of the Trench.

Something _big_.

That was the only word that came to mind as he watched a mouth rise up over the edge, snout pointed and long, and nearly as thick as his own torso despite being shut tight. A torso followed, long and slender and seemingly unending. It stretched easily past the six meter-mark and was covered in a series of iridescent white scales that glittered like mother-of-pearl, glistening as it wove its body through the water; sluggish and unhurried.

Yet Lance still felt fear grip his chest tight. Something that massive didn't _need_ rapid, sharp movements of its body to travel fast. Its sheer size saw to that. A single undulation of its body brought it to an easy crest and Lance watched with mouth agape as it curved back down above them, poised in the water and hanging motionless.

Waiting.

Then its maw split four-ways into a grin lined with rows and rows upon rows of spiny teeth that gleamed like daggers in the light of the _Derceto_.

Fins attached to the side of its head like a hood flared out and the same distorted ring of sonar whistled in his ears, but this time Lance couldn't find it within himself to try and block it out. He felt frozen, limbs locked in place as he stared at what looked like the world's largest sea-serpent.

Hunk let out a whine of horror that echoed inside his helmet.

The sea snake reacted immediately.

The whole of its body twisted towards the _Derceto_ in one fluid movement and it began to wriggle forward, barely giving Lance enough time to yelp and try to swim out of the way as it slid forward like a battering ram. All four sections of its mouth split open wide as it collided with the submersible, and the resulting _CLANG_ was loud enough that Lance felt it in his entire body.

Hunk was screaming as the serpent's body writhed, slowly coiling as it tried over and over to latch its mouth onto the rounded frame of the ship. Metal screeched as the pointed ends of its teeth scraped over the hull and Lance felt his stomach drop. _Hunk was in there, it was going to kill Hunk_ , repeated over and over in his head, but Lance couldn't get his body to move. The powerful twists and flaps of its body would be enough to crush him if they made contact. One good smack and he'd be a goner.

He couldn't just sit back and watch. If that thing managed to compromise the structural integrity of the _Derceto_ , the whole thing would implode; there wouldn't even be any remains to find after. The release of pressure would vaporized everything inside.

"Hunk...!" he yelled, chest squeezing tighter. " _Hunk!_ "

His mind was a whirlwind, telling himself over and over to _do something, do something,_ when the sea snake jerked back from the _Derceto_ without warning, mouth snapping open and shut as its head whipped around towards him.

Lance was paralyzed. His limbs became lead weights as he watched with racing pulse and wide eyes as its hood flattened out, maw gaping as it shot towards him—only to snap shut less than a foot from his face as something dark and glowing struck it from below.

The mermaid.

"Red...!" he gasped, only to regret it an instant later when the stunned creature once again tried to snap at him.

Lance would have met a swift and grizzly end right then and there if not for Red.

Reacting faster than he'd ever seen the mermaid move before, Red snapped its jaws out and caught the sea snake as it lunged, tooth and claw burying themselves simultaneously into flesh. In the same blinding movement, it bit deep, and then wrenched backwards, shearing a visible chunk from the leviathan as blazing blues and purples danced the length of its body like streaks of lightning.

Red only narrowly missed being torn in half when the serpent whipped back around and thrashed its body, segmented mouth flared and seeking; at the first sign of contact they clamped shut like a trap, but when they caught nothing they flared open again. As if it could only guess at where the mermaid was.

He gasped.

The sea snake—it didn't have any eyes. It couldn't see. _It was blind._

"Sound... It uses sound!"

The words came spewing out of his mouth before he could stop them and cold terror swept over Lance as he tried to clap a hand over the front of his helmet, but it was too late; the serpent's head swivelled back and he just barely managed to drag himself out of the way as it came barreling past him, but not fast enough to escape the pull of its self-made current. It pulled Lance after it like a ragdoll, sending him tumbling through the water until he couldn't tell up from down.

When a pair of strong hands clamped down onto his shoulders Lance nearly screamed again as he was pulled roughly to a stop, stomach lurching with the thought that _this is it, it's got me_. His head snapped back in terror, but instead of a maw filled with teeth, he found himself staring up into opaque eyes fixed into a scowl. His struggles stopped immediately and he opened his mouth, but the mermaid flashed a brilliant blue all over in warning and he hastily snapped it shut.

Of course, that didn't help when Pidge and Hunk's voice came filtering through the internal speakers only a second later, making both of them start in horror.

"It uses sound? Hey—guys! Guys, come in!"

"I'm o-okay...I'm just...oogh..."

The sound of Hunk's voice was like a dam breaking; relief flooded through Lance just long enough for him to grab onto the tiny glimmer of hope that things would be okay, only to drain away just as fast as the sea snake emerged from the darkness and shot towards him, maw opened wide.

Lance lurched back on instinct, but it wasn't enough. It was moving too fast—he wouldn't be able to make it in time. The leviathan was too fast.

Red was even faster.

Brilliant bursts of blue-greens shot past him to meet the beast head-on and Lance gasped as Red bent over and around, dodging the snap of its jaws and bludgeoning itself into the side of the sea snake with a mighty bash of its tail. Lance could hear the heavy, resounding _thud_ as their bodies connected, iridescent scales billowing up into a swirling cloud as they were ripped from the leviathan's hide.

It was enough to change the beast's course and Lance held his breath as its head whipped back and forth, rhythm thrown off by the blow. It turned just short of ramming him and rounded on the mermaid, now flickering almost blindingly; drawing the creature's attention as it darted up, away from Lance and the sea snake's powerful snapping jaws.

The way Red moved, jumping out of reach as it flashed brighter and brighter each time the leviathan's attention wavered, was like watching water striders on a pond's surface. Its bursts of speed were intermittent, always _up_ and never any other direction. By contrast, the sea snake's movements were long and winding, back and forth like a ribbon. It wasn't as fast, but it was powerful; more than once he saw Red dodge a lunge, only to get pulled along by its undertow.

There was no way it'd last against such an opponent, but the mermaid was doing it anyway.

Red was buying him time.

"Lance! _Lance!_ Come in, where are you?"

The sound of Pidge's frantic and insistent voice calling out for him pulled Lance out of his thoughts and he gasped, watching as the leviathan faltered for just an instant. But then Red was swooping in again, ramming into its side and tearing more scales from its body in a shower of glistening sparkles.

"I'm—I'm okay. But we need to help Red! It's fighting that thing all on its own!"

" _You_ need to get back inside! You're a sitting duck out there!" she snapped. "The _Derceto_ 's already down two fans after that thing attacked, it's not going to last if it keeps getting battered around like that!"

"Pidge, seriously, there's no _time_ —" he tried, only to get cut off by a loud burst of the distorted sonar. His head snapped back towards the last place he'd seen the mermaid, only to see it writhing in pain, both hands held over the sides of its head. It didn't see the way the sea serpent reared up behind it and swung its body around, but Lance did. He saw the way Red noticed too late that there was no escape, no way to dodge the incoming blow. He saw the way the serpent's thick body cut through the water and collided with Red's side with a sickening _crack_ , like the mermaid was nothing more than a gnat.

But most of all, he saw the way Red's mouth opened in a soundless cry, body dropping like a marionette cut from its strings. Its limbs went limp in the water. It started to sink, top-heavy and drifting towards the sea floor.

It was only after the guttural cry of the mermaid's name tore its way out of his throat that Lance realized that the sea snake was coming back around again, mouth split in ravenous grin.

Horror pooled inside his gut.

He'd never make it in time. There was too much distance to cover, Red was too far away. The sea snake was too fast for him—

But not the _Derceto_.

Its floodlamps shot out into the water and cut away the darkness with burning brilliance, turning the sea snake's body into a blinding white streak mere seconds before the ship shot forward and collided bodily with the leviathan, bulldozing it away from Red's motionless form.

He was so stunned that it wasn't until Hunk's voice yelled at him over the comms for him to " _Go, Lance! Hurry!_ " that he shook himself free of his stupor and started paddling madly through the water, heart hammering as each frantic stroke dragged him closer and close to the falling mermaid.

 _Just a little more_ , he told himself, chest tight and muscles straining. _Just a little more…_

_There!_

Lance's arms shot out, catching the mermaid before it could sink any further into the depths. The weight of Red's long body trying to drag him down, but Lance fought against it and wrapped his arms under its armpits, feet kicking at the water to propel them back towards the base. Red was still in his arms. Horribly, dreadfully still. Lance couldn't even tell if it was still breathing or if its gills were just moving because of the water, but he didn't care.

Red saved him. Now it was his turn to save it.

 

* * *

 

This was crazy. It was reckless. He was probably going to get himself killed. But Hunk's iron grip on the steering yoke didn't waver even as the _Derceto_ careened into the side of the horrifyingly-long sea snake, and the resulting jolt that ran through him was so harsh his arms nearly buckled under the pressure. He could feel the strain in his muscles, every fiber inside them locked down, refusing to budge as the impact whipped him back and forth in his seat. His head slammed against the headrest and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, equal parts pain and fear, but Hunk didn't let himself waver. He couldn't.

He was terrified, panicking more than a little, and when the leviathan's mouth snapped across the porthole Hunk's scream was nearly drowned out by the screech of fang on metal. But he didn't stop. Hunk fought against every instinct telling him to run and save himself, to run and hide and cry; he twisted the grip hard, yelling through gritted teeth as he swerved and drove them down into the muck at top-speed.

Metal groaned and rang with the impact. Something heavy _crunched_.

The lights inside the cockpit flickered on and off rapidly as internal systems tried to recover from the shock.

On.

Off.

On.

The headlamps came back on a second later, for all the good it did. The world before him was nothing more than a swirl of silted debris, cloudy like milk in water. He couldn't even see shadows through the muck, had no way to tell up from down but for the tug of gravity trying to pull him forwards out of his seat. Only his harness kept him in place, straps digging painfully into his joints.

Silence.

Hunk took a breath and nearly choked on it when something big and heavy battered against the side of the ship, over and _over and over_ —

 _The snake_. It was thrashing where he'd pinned it to the sea floor, slamming itself against the _Derceto_.

"Are you serious?!" he yelped.

Another bash came and Hunk decided _screw it_ , punching the throttle. The fan motors on each side of the ship kicked into overdrive. The submersible shook. Hunk reached for the overhead lever to his right and yanked it down as hard as he could, clenching his eyes shut tight.

There was a blinding flash, a final thrash against the hull...and then nothing.

Hunk counted to ten inside his head before he released the lever and cracked one eye open, cringing.

The ship was in a faceplant. But still functional, despite the numerous warnings that flashed on nearly every screen, informing him he'd lost all but one of the propeller fans in that last maneuver. There was no more movement outside.

 _Thank you, plasma cutters._ He'd never been so happy to have those installed on the ship. Sure, they were supposed to be there in case they needed to cut their way through any metallic remains, but this? Also a great application.

Hunk let out a groan of relief and sagged in his harness. That was it, then. He was basically dead in the water. His steering capabilities were virtually gone and being able to pull the _Derceto_ into a stable hover was a far-off dream. He'd be lucky to make it back to the Komar in one piece.

On the upside, he was alive. That was always a plus. What was a little whiplash in the face of death?

Hunk's whole body seemed to be of a mind to disagree though. His chest ached when he breathed and sharp pain was running down his left leg.

"Still glad to be in one piece." It came out a croak. His fingers trembled as he reached up and began flicking switches. He was battered and bruised, but alive. Now he had to make sure Lance was, too. "Pidge...?" He groped for the comms relay on his wrist, wincing.

She replied immediately.

" _Hunk!_ Hunk, are you okay? What's going on?" Her voice was raised and rough, almost angry if not for the underlying desperation in it.

"Well...the sea monster's pretty much sashimi. And the ship's not imploded. Soooo..." Hunk exhaled, fighting back a wince. "Other than almost dying, I'm doing great. How's Lance? Did he make it back?"

"I—yeah. Yeah, he's fine. Just get back here," she stressed, and something about the way she said it made his gut churn uncomfortably.

"Right...okay." He swallowed. "I'm on my way."

 

* * *

 

The moment he saw Lance hovering outside the base with the mermaid's torso wrapped up in his arms, Hunk knew something was wrong.

Far away from the Komar, they'd had to rely on the _Derceto_ for light. Visibility had been poor, and Hunk had only been able to see where the floodlamps shone. The chase between the mermaid, Lance, and the monster had been chaotic; hard to keep track of. But now, bathed in the glow of the spotlights all around them, he could see how motionless the mermaid laid in Lance's arms, eyes shut and tail limp. Its head lolled to one side, chest collapsed and too flat on one side.

It didn't look good.

"Hunk...!" The way Lance's head swerved to him upon his approach, eyes full of relief and fear in equal measure, made his chest ache. "Hunk, we need to help Red—we need to get them into one of the pods!"

"I know," he replied, voice steadier than he rightly felt. His hands were still shaking, his heart still thrumming. But he pushed through all of it and locked the _Derceto_ in place. "I've got you, buddy! Hang on." He opened their broad frequency. "Pidge?"

"On it!" she replied. "Lance, bring the mermaid around to the decompression lab. We're going to use the emergency diving bell in 1-A. Hunk, get on board and help me prep the saturation chamber."

"On my way!"

Getting himself out of the ship and onto the base was easier said than done, but Hunk didn't have the luxury of time on his hands. Though his leg screamed in protest with every single step, Hunk dragged himself onward through sheer force of will. He could patch himself up later. But if they didn't get the mermaid stabilized and breathing again...

Hunk burst into the lab, panting, and ignored the alarmed look Pidge sent him.

"Hunk! You're..."

"How's that chamber looking?" he asked instead, cutting her off and hobbling his way over to the far end of the room where a cylindrical tube stood, not unlike the one they'd used to hold Lance's unconscious body during the sea trials. It was locked into a mechanism that fed through a thick series of latches and pressure locks in the floor. An emergency safety measure in case someone was injured while diving.

In most cases an injury this far down would spell immediate death on account of the pressure, but on the million-to-one chance that they survived... Well. It was just a good thing Altea had thought to consider it.

"It's just about equalized with the outside and ready to go," reported Pidge, hesitant but quickly snapping back to her controls. "Lance, are you in position?"

"Yeah, I just—yes. We're ready, go!"

Hunk lowered the chamber through the floor without delay and held his breath as it sank with a hiss. There was a tense moment where no one spoke, Hunk's ears straining for and dreading the sound of a compression explosion, or cries of distress...but there was only a second hiss, and suddenly the cryo-replenisher returned, no longer empty.

Neither he nor Pidge could stop from gasping at their first up-close look at the creature. The pods were built to hold a human adult of above-average height with some extra wiggle room up top for movements, but the mermaid seemed to just barely fit. Its body was even paler than it looked outside, features more noticeably angled and inhuman. And with its lips just slightly parted, he could see the too-large teeth that dwelt within and shuddered.

Then he took a gulp of air, held his breath, and let it out in one big whoosh.

"Alright, I'm going to reroute water from the intake valves into the respirator. We need to get it breathing again."

At his side, Pidge startled—and then leapt into action.

While Hunk flushed the tank and feeds with water from outside, Pidge worked furiously at the controls to manipulate the surgical arms inside the tank, affixing the breathing mask over the mermaid's face. Fresh water flowed into its body, forcing its gills to flare and contract. They worked braces on its body to keep it from jostling or incurring further damage just like they would a trauma patient.

They ran scans, worked to realign fragile bone. Did whatever they could to keep its body from giving out.

Everything about this was uncharted territory. The only things they knew about the mermaid's biology came from what little they'd been able to observe. They had no way of knowing how bad or irreparable the damage was. They couldn't even treat it with the replenisher until it had completed a full, in-depth body scan.

All they could do was try.

 

* * *

 

What followed was the longest sixteen hours any of them would ever experience.

Lance joined them an hour in, sweaty and gasping as he burst into the room. He was still wearing his pressure suit. His feet were bare. And when his eyes fell upon the myriad of tubes, wires, and electrodes covering the mermaid's body, his expression was haunted.

He'd walked up to the tank with concern and fear etched into every inch of his face, and laid a hand on the glass. Hunk was at his side in a second. Pidge would have been too, if not for the immense amount of concentration require to work the fine surgical lasers currently grasped tightly in her hands.

While Hunk guided him to a chair she worked to cauterize spots of internal bleeding; a stop-gap measure and nothing more. They simply didn't know enough to do more, and Pidge felt the weight of it pressing down upon her with every passing minute. All they could do was run from one emergency to the next, hoping that it would hold until the replenisher was ready to do the brunt of the work itself.

Hours passed in seconds while they worked, but each moment of peace in between was like an eternity spent waiting for the other shoe to drop. Their mission deadline came and went in silence. At some point, Hunk brought in MREs and vitamin jelly.

Pidge ate hers without looking away from the life support monitors.

Ten hours in, Lance finally fell asleep. Hunk tried to urge her to do the same, to offer to watch in her stead, but she refused. Of all of them, she had the most technical knowledge when it came to marine biology. If something happened, she was their best bet.

Or at least, that's what she told herself.

It wasn't because she'd failed to notice what the sonar abnormality truly was beforehand. It wasn't because she'd failed to account for the distortion of the trench keeping the sea snake off her radar. It wasn't because, when everything had all happened at once, she had been stuck alone on the base, unable to do anything but call out to her friends and hoped with all her might that they'd answer.

It wasn't because she'd felt weak and powerless. It wasn't.

She wasn't seventeen anymore, tucked away safe on land while her father and brother vanished without a trace. She was older, thought she'd been wiser. She was _here_ , right where her family had been. She finally had the power to _do_ something.

So Pidge worked. Tirelessly, and without rest, until finally, the pod gave a hiss of air and beeped three times in clear succession.

"Biomedical tomography scan, complete."

It took several seconds for the automated voice to register past the fog of exhaustion that had settled over her mind. Pidge looked up at the overhead screen and stared blankly at it for several seconds before her gaze fell onto the cryo-replenisher. The red indicator at the top was now a steady blue. Blue meant the recovery function was in process. The machine was working.

Pidge blinked slowly.

And then she gasped.

 _It was working_.

"Guys—guys!" She pushed herself up from her chair so suddenly it slipped out from under her and she nearly fell, startling both Hunk and Lance awake.

"What? What—what is it, did something happen?" There were bags under Lance's eyes and he look half-drunk despite the panic written on his face, and for just a moment Pidge felt bad for startling him. Less so for the news she delivered as she whipped an arm back to point at the pod, glasses stooped to the edge of her nose.

"The pod! It's _working_ ," she said, eyes bright. "It's working."

It took a second, but Pidge could see the exact moment Lance understood. Worry drained from his face. His shoulders slumped. A crooked, weary smile twisted his lips, and very suddenly Pidge found herself the recipient of a very warm, very tight hug.

"Pidge...you're amazing. Thank you, thank you—" He didn't even finish before she was hugging him back just as tightly, hiccupping on a laugh as her face was squished into his chest.

Then he was calling for Hunk, and before she knew it all three of them were wrapped around each other, sinking to the floor as they cried. Tired, relieved, scared...but alive and in one piece.

At least, until Hunk wailed in agony.

 

* * *

 

"Your leg is broken."

"His leg is _what?_ "

Pidge watched Hunk fidget as Lance stared at him, arms thrown out and incredulous.

"Broken." She swung out a folding screen to show them both the x-ray of Hunk's lower leg, which would have looked fine if not for the paper-thin wrinkle of white running through one of his bones. "Or more accurately, you have a hairline fracture. If it was a clean break it would be way easier to see, and a lot more gross."

Lance made a face and gestured emphatically to the poor leg in question, now swollen to nearly twice the size of its twin.

"How is this not gross already?" He rounded on Hunk, who was laid up on the examination chair and pointedly looking anywhere but at his limb. "And you! Why didn't you say anything!"

"H-hey, I didn't know it was broken. There was a lot going on at the time! I was trying to help save a life. _Two_ lives, technically." He fidgeted.

"You've also got a bruised collarbone and whiplash," Pidge informed him flatly, ignoring the indignant squawk Lance made at her side. "And since the cryo-replenisher's occupied for the next...who-knows-when, the best we can do is keep it elevated, and you off your feet."

"Wait...wait, what about the mission?" Hunk finally looked up at her in alarm, trying to push himself up in his seat, and _nope_ , she wasn't having any of that. She reached over to push a single finger into his sternum and he winced immediately, flattening back with a groan.

" _We_ , as in Lance and I, will have to go back topside. The _Derceto_ needs repairs before we can get it mobile again, and Coran will want to dissect every last shred of that thing we can bring back," she said.

"What? We can't just leave Hunk behind," Lance protested.

Hunk raised his hand. "Yeah! Hunk also doesn't want to get left behind!"

Pidge just sighed. "Look… Someone needs to stay here and look after the mermaid. And Hunk shouldn't be moving with his injuries. The _Derceto_ 's way too unstable right now not to jostle and move us around on a trip up to the surface, and you know the minute Coran hears one of us was _injured_ he's going to want to ground all of us," she said. "Our best bet is to say Hunk's staying down here to work repairs while we go up and drop off the sea monster. He'll be so preoccupied with that, we'll be able to fix the ship and zip right on back down."

"Okay..." said Hunk, slowly. "But what the heck am I supposed to do if you guys are all the way up there, and I'm all the way down here?"

"I'll make you a walking cast with the 3D printer so you can get around if you need to. There's still plenty of MREs, enough to last you more than a month if necessary—"

Hunk choked. "A month?! No, you guys! You can't leave me down here for a whole _month_...!"

"Relax, we're not doing that," Lance broke in, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Like Pidge said, we'll go up, hand over the dead fish, and be right back down. I bet it'll be like three days, tops."

"Actually, somewhere in the neighborhood of two weeks would be much more likel—"

"A-buh-buh-buh!" Lance pinched his fingers together at her, drawing a hand quickly across his throat. He turned back to Hunk an instant later. "A week, man. Max. And we'll be on the comms with you the whole time."

"I don't know..." Hunk was wringing his fingers together and sending a wary glance towards the healing pod, still silently working away on their guest. "I... _guess_ I could finally get those water farms working..."

"Yeah! See, there you go," Lance said brightly. "Just because you were nearly almost super-mortally-wounded doesn't mean you're stuck doing nothing down here. We'll be there and back before you know it."

Pidge could only stare.

"Great pep-talk, Lance," she said, watching as Hunk took several deep, forcibly-calming breaths.

"Alright...alright," he eventually said, eyes closed briefly. "I guess...that all makes sense. You guys are right." He paused. "Or you're right, Pidge."

"Hey...!"

"I'll stay here and hold down the fort." He continued on as if he hadn't heard Lance. "Just...don't be gone too long, okay?"

Pidge offered him a reassuring smile and stepped forward to lay her hand on his other shoulder. "Of course. You'll be able to reach us the whole time. And if anything happens, we'll contact you right away."

He nodded slowly, for the first time beginning to look reassured.

"Okay."

"Good. Now hold still while I anesthetize your leg so we can put that cast on you."

Hunk went pale and whimpered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO TECHNICALLY I'm breaking my have-the-next-chapter-ready-before-I-post rule for this update, but I really wanted to get it out before the next season dropped and I feel bad you all had to wait so long :'c I was super-busy this last month and didn't have much time to get any writing done. The next chapter is sitting at about 2.9k, and due to the way the next 2 chapters are being written they'll both need to be finished before I post. Sorry! The [facts](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/tagged/Ocean-Facts) post for this will be up in a couple of hours because I am far, far too jet lagged to brain beyond "IT FISH" 8'|
> 
> But thank you again so so much for all your support, comments, kudos, and most importantly: QUESTIONS. I got a number of asks/questions in the comments last time which actually helped me plan something else out for this fic down the line, so thank you guys so much for that<3 I love getting questions and comments about the parts you guys really enjoyed, what worked for you, and what you're curious about!
> 
> As always, you can come bug me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 I love answering questions or chatting about anything Voltron so please feel free to come by!
> 
>  **Fanart:**  
> [Keith](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/175838666345/imsuchtrashhelp-merkeith-from-pterodotyl) by Space.Cadet  
> [Keith appears through the muck (ch12)](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/176820284915/by-shit-just-got-serious-the-dreaming-dark) by Angiesocial  
> [BONUS SCENE](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/post/176820314985/by-shit-just-got-serious-when-you-flirt-with-a) by Angiesocial  
> [Keith](https://pasta-salad-on-my-face.tumblr.com/post/176900700346/how-i-imagined-keith-from-the-dreaming-dark-by) by Pasta-salad-on-my-face  
> [Lance and injured Keith](https://imsuchtrashhelp.tumblr.com/post/177041307024/more-from-pterodotyl-story-the-dreaming-dark) by Lili/Lilith  
> [Keith under the far-reds](https://sandaraart.tumblr.com/post/177331368736/woo-this-took-a-lot-of-work-say-hello-to-my) by Sandara Art


	14. Correlation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk finds himself (nearly) alone on the Komar while Pidge and Lance return to the Castleship. All he has to do is supervise the mermaid until it's recovered. No biggie, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas for this chapter: [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) | [Jemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard) | UNNAMED MYSTERY BETA, you know who you are

Pidge and Lance stuck around just long enough to make sure Hunk's leg was taken care of and had everything he'd need while they were gone. It was a very nice gesture...or would have been, if it didn't involve so many shots.

"This one is an anti-inflammatory to help keep the swelling down," Pidge said, loading one canister into the medical gun. There was a sharp release of air as she pressed it into the soft tissue on the side of his leg, and Hunk jumped.

"Ow!"

She popped out the empty vial and held up another, unfazed. "This one is to promote circulation so you don't develop any clots." Another hiss, another yelp. "And this one—"

"How many of these are there?!" he cried, trying to sit up in his seat, only to have her stick him with the needle a third time. His yelp this time was longer, more exaggerated.

"Hey man, if it helps, I had to do, like, two of these myself," Lance said at his side, laying a hand on his shoulder in consolation. Hunk looked at him and sniffed, lips turned sharply downward.

"But I just had to have _three_. In a row!"

"Well, you did take on a giant snake-fish head-to-head. Which, by the way? Totally awesome." Lance smirked, but the look was warm and encouraging rather than coy. "You're pretty much a certified badass at this point. Not bad for an engineer."

"Tell that to my everything," Hunk groaned, unwilling to let himself be entirely comforted by the words just yet. He knew Lance was trying to encourage him. He just hurt. A lot. Who knew ramming something with twelve tons of force would turn out to be so painful?

"You'll be fine as soon as you can hop in the cryo-replenisher," Pidge told him, dropping the empty canisters into a specialized waste disposal and laying the gun down on the table to the side. "Until then, just keep your leg elevated, try not to move, and use a cold compress pretty much everywhere on and off for the next twenty-four hours."

He groaned. "Great."

"Don't worry," said Lance, giving him a careful pat. "We've already set up a bed and loaded you up with the best snacks and painkillers this side of Kraydah. You'll be all set until we get back."

Despite whatever doubts and reservations he still harbored about the plan, at least one thing was for certain: Hunk officially had the world's best friends.

It was a little tough to be holed up and bed-ridden instead of helping. While Pidge made the call up to Coran and the _Castleship_ to fill them in on what happened, Lance once again braved the thoroughly murky waters outside the Komar to make sure their sea monster was well and truly dead. And Hunk? Hunk just laid on his back, trying not to move.

Not being able to do much sucked, right up until they started discussing how they were going to transport something that large all the way up to the surface with their weight restrictions.

"What if we cut it up? Like reeeeeally careful?" Lance had suggested. "We'll bring the big spooky top half with us and put the butt here on ice! And then when we're ready, we float it up and stitch it back together like some sort of fishy cyborg."

Actually, that one Hunk was okay missing out on. He would happily leave the Frankenstein-ing of their resident horror to Pidge and Lance.

Once everything was all set, their departure wasn't drawn-out or tearful or anything; Lance and Pidge both gave him a hug, checked to make sure he had everything he needed, and kept radio contact with him right up until about the halfway-mark. He missed them almost immediately, right up until mother nature made herself known.

When Lance had left two empty water bottles at his makeshift bedside, Hunk thought he'd been joking. He wasn't going to pee in a bottle, that was just...gross. Not to mention probably totally unsanitary. People drank out of those. He'd brave the hobble to the bathroom, thanks.

That was all _before_ he tried to pushing himself up into a sitting position, though. The instant he held his breath and made to move, he was met with a _very convincing_ wave of pain from all over and found himself flat on his back, wheezing.

Suddenly the bottles were a much more attractive option. As were the extra painkillers.

The one upside was that taking care of that particular need happened to be the most strenuous task he had. Keeping his foot elevated and his injuries cooled with ice packs wasn't difficult. He only needed one arm to shuffle everything around, and the gel solution inside the packets would self-cool for at least twenty-four hours before he needed to swap them out.

His second day alone on the base brought with it discomfort in the form of constant aches and pains throughout his body, but aside from that? It wasn't that bad. Just uneventful...and quiet. Very quiet. The one call he'd gotten from them upon their arrival to the ship had been brief; things were hectic aboard the _Castleship_ and they hadn't had much time to talk before Coran had taken over.

"Hunk! Oh, thank goodness! Are you alright? When Pidge and Lance showed up without you and that _thing_ tied to the ship... I feared the worst!"

Hunk resisted the urge to glance over to the cryo-replenisher to his side and grinned crookedly.

"Oh...yeah... I'm okay. Just—making sure things are all okay down here, you know? Not that the station's damaged or anything!" he amended quickly. "But, you know. With the giant fish monster and the ship and stuff... "

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own? You really didn't need to stay behind!" Coran began to insist, and Hunk felt his gut churn nervously.

 _The minute Coran hears one of us was injured he's going to want to ground all of us_ , Pidge's words echoed in his mind, stern.

"Nope! All good, totally fine down here!" he said too quickly. "Plenty of food and water and stuff to do—which I should get doing! Those hydroponic farms aren't going to _plant_ themselves, haha...hah."

Coran blinked at him in silence and Hunk felt his chest squeeze. What even was that joke? It was terrible! Way too suspicious, Coran had to be onto him. He'd know something was wrong and start interrogating Pidge and Lance about it, and then he'd find out about all the stuff they'd been hiding from him about the mermaid and the crew—

"Ah, I get it." Coran's sudden declaration caught him off-guard and Hunk started a little, gulping and trying to physically will himself to stop sweating as Coran's intense gaze bore into him. "The joke, I mean! Always important to keep one's spirits up in situations like these. Why, back in my day we had something similar happen with a power-outage and a breakroom that locked from the outside. Never could figure out why they'd design a room like that..."

Hunk let out a whoosh of air, forcing a wheezy laugh. _Thank goodness_.

"Y-yeah..." They were okay. Coran hadn't noticed anything amiss. _Just relax, Hunk. Be cool,_ he told himself. "So, anyway, that's what I'm gonna do. Farming. And sample-stuff. Is that cool?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, of course. Please be sure to check in with us every few of hours, won't you? Just to make sure you're okay down there. I imagine it's going to be a bit lonesome with everyone up here."

"Right..." Hunk grinned weakly, and that time he was unable to help his eyes from stealing a quick peek at the replenisher. "Will do, Coran. See you."

He ended the call quickly and dropped back on his bed with a groan of misery, neck and chest complaining loudly.

That had been _way_ too close for comfort. He was no good at this covert secret-stuff! Or secrets in general. It felt wrong to keep Coran and Iverson out of the loop, even knowing that there were facts that just didn't line up. The Teludav lens, the secret journals and messages...

 _That_ giant elephant in the room, he thought, tipping his head back to look at the mermaid currently floating motionless inside the chamber.

It looked...rough. That was the only way to describe it.

Its eyes were closed and its mouth ajar, obscured by the rebreather fastened over its face. The gills on either side of its neck stretched and flattened out slowly as each gulp of water was flushed through its body with the help of the machine. The ones on each side of its torso remained still save for the occasional weak flutter on its undamaged side. He wasn't sure if that meant that it was struggling to breathe or merely a result of the flow of water, but the sight made his throat feel thick.

The mermaid was freaky, and that was putting it kindly.

It wasn't that it was ugly or anything like that. It just looked...wrong. Not-quite-right. There was just enough about its features that were _other_ that it seemed uncanny; looking at it for too long unnerved Hunk.

Even if he ignored the distinct _fishiness_ of its lower half and other features, there were clear distinctions between the mermaid and what could be considered normal for a human. For starters, the mermaid's chest was far, far too compressed. Hunk wasn't sure if that was because of the blow it'd taken or if that's how it was normally, but it was unsettling to expect the roundedness of a ribcage and find it flattened. Then, of course, there was the distinct lack of ears on either side of its head despite the fact that it very obviously had hair—or something close enough to it that it was hard to tell the difference.

Then there was its skin, pale and almost translucent in some places. From where he laid, Hunk could clearly see the dark blue-black splotches of coagulated blood beneath the surface where the worst of the damage was, like food coloring added to water. The effect was eerie and Hunk felt his stomach twist uncomfortably.

The mermaid had saved them, no doubt about that. Saved _Lance_ , even when it hadn't trusted or dared to come near them. The moment they were in danger, it was just...there. Helping, even against something as monstrous as the sea snake had been. From the size difference alone, it was easy to tell the mermaid hadn't stood a chance. But it had still tried.

And here he was, still creeped out by it and unable to look at it properly for more than two or three minutes at a time without getting goosebumps.

"Just think of it like the teacup rides at the fun park back home," Hunk murmured under his breath. "Exposure therapy. Freaky mermaids under the ocean: totally normal. Nothing to worry about..." He didn't think about the fact that he'd never been able to get on the ride without hurling after and sent another glance the mermaid's way.

Still unconscious. Still unnerving...but maybe just a little bit less than before.

Hunk exhaled shakily and sunk further into his bed.

It was going to be a long week.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Hunk felt up to it, he got started on the hydroponic farms. It wasn't an easy task with a bum leg and sore upper body, but once he managed to hoist himself into one of the swivel chairs, getting around was as simple as pushing himself across the floor with his one good leg.

It was more fun than it should've been to propel himself down hallways and across stretches of open space, but Hunk figured if he was going to be stuck down here, he might as well find some way to enjoy it. Just because everything hurt and sucked in general didn't mean he had to be miserable. Plus, it doubled as a very efficient way for him to ferry things around without having to worry about carrying them himself. As long as he got whatever it was he needed into his lap, he was A-OK.

Progress was slow-going, though. It was in his favor that most of the arranging and heavy lifting had been done before the whole sea monster fiasco, but setting up all the tubes and hoses he needed to get everything going was much more difficult when even lifting his arms made his chest and shoulders ache something fierce. Hunk had to take frequent breaks and move slowly, and by the time lunch rolled around, he had barely finished one row.

He groaned.

Hunk wheeled himself to the main room and watched the surveillance monitors as he ate, slowly scooping bits of lemon and pepper tuna into his mouth.

The waters outside were calm, which was both odd and comforting. Odd because of how utterly insane and dangerous it had been only a few days prior, but comforting because everything was still now; even the murk from when he'd bulldozed the sea snake had settled and returned to the sea floor, leaving the water clear. The only sign of struggle that remained was a mound of displaced mud a dozen meters off from the base or so.

Part of him wished that it had been this unexciting all along. No freaky monsters, no unsettling missing-crew mysteries to be solved, no...mermaids.

Hunk's stomach dipped guiltily at the thought.

The mermaid had clearly saved Lance, probably tried to warn them ahead of time if all the fussing it had done in the water with him before was any indication. Aside from some hissing and just being scary in general, the mermaid...really hadn't done anything but help them and be understandably suspicious. They were the ones intruding on its home, after all, not the other way around. If a bunch of strange people he couldn't understand showed up on his doorstep and started messing around, he wouldn't have been all that trusting either.

It had stuck its neck out for them. Put itself in danger for their sake.

Suddenly Hunk didn't feel nearly so hungry anymore, and set his tray aside. There had to be something he could do besides just wait for it to wake up. Something to help, or at least find a proper way to say thank-you. At the very least, it deserved that much.

Hunk turned his chair around and scooted himself back into the lab with the pod, brows knit together in thought as he approached its unconscious form. The light above the replenisher was still a steady blue, still in progress. He inched over to the read-outs and stiffly grabbed for his tablet, swiping a few times to transfer over all the data.

From the looks of things, it still had another twelve hours to go. So, with nothing better to do for the time being, Hunk pulled up a new window on the device and began to read.

In hindsight, diving head-first into a ton of medical and scientific jargon without having a background in it wasn't the best idea. Hunk was certifiably brilliant when it came to engineering, but after only twenty minutes of scrolling through terms like _dermal denticles_ and _trimethylamine N-oxide_ _osmolytes_ , Hunk was starting to think he was more than a little out of his element.

Pidge would be better suited to figuring this all out, and Hunk couldn't help but feel, yet again, like they'd made a mistake in leaving him down there to watch over things.

"Too bad you can't just explain what's going on," Hunk sighed, sending the mermaid a wistful glance. It would've been really handy to have at least learned some of those diving signals from Lance, but even those had major limitations. If they could just figure out some way to communicate with it properly... Maybe sign language? The actual one. If they could teach the mermaid, that might work. The only major drawback there was that none of them knew the first thing about signing. And trying to outsource that was a big _N-O_ with all the Altea and _Kerberos_ stuff up in the air.

Too bad there wasn't an intuitive translator for 'high-pitched, click-y fish noises.' Something that could take all those jumbled noises and make sense out of them.

He paused.

That... That was an idea. Maybe _they_ didn't need to try and make sense of all that in the first place. An acoustic analytics program like the one Pidge used already catalogued and organized ambient sound in the ocean into source and location. How hard could it be to make something smaller and fine-tuned?

Like, say...a vocalizer that recorded and logged one specific individual's whistles and clicks.

It wouldn't be impossible. The programming and cataloguing he'd need to leave to Pidge, but fashioning the device itself? Hunk could more than handle that. All the equipment he'd need had already been loaded onto the base for general repairs and set-up. If he got started now and kept working at it...

Hunk's gazed lingered on the mermaid again.

The gills might be a bit of an obstacle, but if he made it more compact, like an implant?

"Oh man, this could actually work," he said, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this earlier. Heck, he couldn't believe _Pidge_ hadn't thought about it. She was the sound expert, after all. This was all right up her alley.

Hunk hastily swiped across his data pad and pulled up his communicator.

"Hey, this is Hunk Garrett reporting in from Alpha Research Station Komar," he said, "is Pidge or Lance around? Over."

He waited through a few seconds of static before the familiar voice of the usual operator came through.

"This is RSV _Castleship_ , copying loud and clear. Hang in there for a couple of minutes Mister Garrett, we'll track them down for you. Over."

"Cool. Thanks—over," he added quickly, sitting back in his chair. It sucked that he couldn't just call up to their individual communicators and had to patch everything through the ship first, but that was hydrophone technology for you.

On the bright side, it didn't take long for Lance to pick up and answer.

"Hunk? Is everything cool, man? You okay?" he asked, probably quicker than he needed to considering everything was supposed to be fine down here.

"Uhh... Yeah, everything's fine," Hunk answered slowly. "Are you okay? Your voice sounds kind of weird."

"What? Oh. Yeah, they've got me on oxygen again even though I _totally checked out fine in my physical...!_ " He raised his voice pointedly at the end, which Hunk had to assume was directed at someone on his end up there. There was some sort of muffled sound in the background, followed by an annoyed grunt from Lance.

"Had to get another shot?" he guessed.

"After every dive," Lance groused. "Which I already took down on the base. But they want to be extra-paranoid about it. Sucks."

"Well, better than the alternative." Which was painful incapacitation by microscopic air bubbles expanding inside his organs and tissue. Gross. "Is Pidge there though? I had a question for her about the hydroacoustic software on the base."

"Oooh...yeah, about that." The cringe in his voice was palpable. "Pidge is sort of...busy. Veeery, very busy. She can't come to the phone right now."

"What? Why?"

For a moment his brain conjured up all the possible worst-case scenarios. Did they get discovered? Was she in trouble—? Was there actually a conspiracy after all?

"I don't know the whole story, but I think it was something like food poisoning? She's sort of been MIA since this morning, if you know what I mean. Like she is out of commission dude, she got it _bad_. Like both ends bad."

Hunk grimaced and pulled the phone away from his ear. "Lance, gross! Too much! Don't tell me that about Pidge, I don't need to know the details."

"You asked!"

"I didn't ask about _that_ , ugh!" He dragged a hand down his face and fought back a wave of sympathetic nausea at the thought. He'd had food poisoning before.

It was not pretty.

"Do you know how long she's going to be...out?" he asked wearily.

"Like, maybe a day or two? However long food poisoning lasts." He could practically hear Lance shrugging. "Technically I'm supposed to hang out here until they're finished observing me or whatever, so I can't really go check."

"Oh..." Well that wasn't helpful. "Can you just get her to call me back as soon as she's doing okay then? It's sort of important."

There was a pause on Lance's end.

"Like... _red_ -levels of important?" he asked slowly, and Hunk had never been more grateful for Lance exercising a rare moment of discretion. He wondered if Pidge had drilled it into him.

"It's not an emergency," said Hunk. "But...yeah."

"Is...everything okay down there?" Lance's voice became quieter, more uncertain. "I mean—you know what I mean. Red's not _in_ the red?"

Less subtle, but Hunk couldn't fault Lance for it. He sounded worried in a way Hunk very much doubted he'd been able to show up on the _Castleship_ , especially with Pidge apparently down and out and very little news from Hunk's end to go off of. He felt bad for not having called to give him an update sooner.

"It's fine," Hunk assured him. "Same as before, and if all goes well we should be—"

_Ding!_

Wait, _ding_?

Hunk spun his chair around to stare at the cryo-replenisher and watched as the indicator light at the top turned a steady, vibrant green. He could hear Lance on the other end trying to ask him what was going on, but Hunk's eyes were glued to the machine as it gave another bright _ding_ , and the mermaid's eyes snapped open.

" _Ohhhh!_ Oh my god, Iiiiiiiiiyai...just remembered! I have! A thing! Big, important thing! Call you back!"

Hunk didn't even wait for Lance to reply before he killed the transmission. _What the heck happened to having twelve hours?_ It was too soon for it to be done already, he thought frantically, squeaking and nearly dropping the tablet when the mermaid narrowed its eyes at him and curled its upper lip. Dread sunk into the pit of Hunk's stomach for just a split-second as he leaned back in his seat...but rather than snarling, dilated pupils came back into focus and the mermaid began to blink rapidly, recoiling back from the glass as it closed its membrane—and suddenly Hunk remembered.

The lights, of course. _Duh_.

"Sorry! Hang on a sec—"

Hunk pushed himself back with a strong kick that sent his chair careening into the wall, and _oh, ow_ , that was a mistake. That was such a mistake. He groaned as he adjusted the lighting and pitched the room into near-darkness, leaving only an oddly hazy red glow to see by. It blinded him for a few seconds and made his eyes water, but on the other hand, that was probably how the mermaid felt every time they'd blasted it with the yellow high-beams.

Speaking of...

As soon as he could see again Hunk noticed that it was looking right at him. It had even blinked the membrane from its eyes so that Hunk could see its actual pupils, a first for him. They were so human-looking it was jarring; like looking into the face of a ghost, if he ignored everything from the neck down. The illusion was only shattered when the mermaid's mouth opened behind its mask to draw in fresh water and he caught sight of the pointed teeth within, a mere instant before its nose wrinkled and it tried to bite at the plastic.

"Oh—whoa, hang on! Don't eat that, that's not food!" he said, quickly dragging himself over despite the awkwardness of his hobble. He wasn't sure if it was the tone of his voice or the way he waved his arm to try and catch its attention, but the mermaid paused halfway through an attempt to rake it off its face with clawed hands to look back at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Uhh..." Hunk faltered. "Hey, mermaid? I know you probably can't understand me, but you really don't wanna eat that. All you need to do is—here." He reached blindly for the cabinet of spare supplies to his side and groped through it for an extra breathing mask, fastening it around his face. "See? Mask! Comes off niiice and easy. Like this."

He mimed pressing the strap release at the back of his head and lifting it off, turning so the creature could see him repeat the action several times. It studied him curiously, obviously skeptical and not exactly trusting, which, fair. Lance had been the one to really try and connect with it, not him. But he was relieved to see that after several moments, the mermaid raised its arms in a clumsy approximation of what Hunk had done and mimicked him. There were a few seconds of groping to find the release, but the mermaid's expression lit up with surprise when it managed and the straps came loose.

It tugged the mask off with none of the finesse or practice Hunk had demonstrated, but that was fine. It looked relieved and pleased to have the mask off its face and took several deep gulps of water, passing them through flared gills on its neck, and more importantly, torso. One side still seemed to be doing most of the work, but it was way better than how flattened and distorted it had been when they first brought it in.

It opened its mouth and made some strange series of clicks Hunk had no hope of understanding, but from the way it was looking at him, keen and intent, he assumed it was probably trying to express its gratitude.

He hoped.

"You're...welcome?" he said, offering a slight grin.

The mermaid cocked its head and made some sort of movement inside the pod that evidently, the spatial confines didn't really allow for. There was a dull _thunk_ as its forehead connected with the glass and the mermaid twitched back, confused and hissing. Both palms came up to paw at it, ineffective.

"Whoa, whoa—hey. Relax, it's okay." Hunk raised both hands up and waved them to get its attention, trying not to feel too guilty about the betrayed and irate look on its face. "You were hurt, do you remember? Lance was out there in the water, and then that biiiig horrible fish monster showed up! And then you were all 'hey, look at me!' and saved us." Hunk mimed a multitude of different actions, from paddling through water to wriggling both arms together like a snake.

It stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

Hunk fought back the need to feel embarrassed and wracked his brain for an alternative. He couldn't explain what had happened, but maybe if he showed it...

"Oh, duh! The surveillance—" Hunk brought up his tablet and dimmed the brightness all the way down, holding it up to the chamber. "Look! Here, this is what I saw from the ship."

He pressed play and watched the screen's reflection of the glass as footage from the _Derceto_ rolled. He saw Lance swim out with the equipment, then the mermaid swim out in front. It seemed fascinated by that part in particular and gave a series of curious clicks as it leaned in, palms pressed against the glass.

Together they watched the pair of them kick up the dirt cloud, followed by the mermaid swimming easy circles around Lance. It rumbled at the sight, gills flaring with some vocalization Hunk couldn't hear, but it swiftly turned into a growl as the sea snake appeared. It bared its fangs and hissed at the tablet until the underwater battle began, watching with rapt attention as it zipped around the beast, narrowly avoiding blow after blow.

Until it didn't.

The mermaid's expression became unreadable as the _Derceto_ broke away from the scene of Lance hurrying towards its sinking form and rammed the leviathan. The footage cut out shortly after.

"...You were hurt pretty bad," Hunk eventually murmured after several moments of silence. "Lance helped you. He brought you on board." He wound back the video to the shot of Lance and the mermaid, the former's arms outstretched. "That's Lance," he pointed out. "And that's you."

A pensive frown furrowed the mermaid's features as it studied the screen, lips parted but breathing steady. It studied the screen intensely, a clawed hand running slowly down the glass. Then, gradually, it dipped one finger and Hunk watched as it pressed it flat, right above Lance's image.

"That's Lance," he said again. "Lance."

The mermaid clicked and twitched its head, tongue working inside its mouth...almost like it was trying to form the name itself. Hunk's eyes rounded as it tried to work and form its teeth and lips around the sounds, but it was either unable to do it or unused to trying to move its mouth in such a way, and the mermaid gave several clicked rumbles of annoyance as its gills billowed out and shook.

Deep blue flickered out across its body and took him by surprise. The mermaid had been dull and dark the entire time and he'd completely forgotten it did that, but now it was all he could see as the mermaid poked at Lance's image and flashed blue again. Even more curiously, when it pointed to the image of itself, it turned a soft pulse of purple and remained that way, just a soft glow in the darkness.

Hunk stared. The mermaid stared back and then made a point at motioning to the picture, then very pointedly brought its palm back to motion to itself in a vague gesture. Both times its body strobed with color, and both times the series of lights it produced were identical. Almost like it was...

He gasped. "Is that your name? Are you—is that color, that's your name?"

Obviously, it didn't understand him. Hunk was already working past that as he dragged back the tablet and rolled back through the footage, to a different angle and shot of the pair. He turned it back around and pointed to the mermaid.

It flickered purple.

Another shot, mermaid again.

Purple.

Another.

Purple.

Hunk brought up a picture of Lance, taken on the _Castleship_ 's deck shortly before their first dive down, and straight away it changed to bright flashes of blue that danced along its body and markings in what he was very quickly recognizing as a specific pattern.

"Oh my god," he laughed, incredulous. "Those flashes are _names_. Pidge and Lance are going to freak."

And not only that, but now he knew something else about the mermaid: the colors weren't just for show. They had a specific meaning. Sequences. Heck, if they were that complicated then some of those flashes were probably as good as words. It was a major break for them.

The smile was impossible to keep off his face after that.  "Okay, so...your name is a bunch of purple flashes, which I obviously can't do. Do you have an easier name...? Like a sound or something?" he asked, not at all surprised by the clueless look he got in return. "You know...sound. Words?"

He held up the tablet and pointedly to Lance's image.

"Lance," he said, stressing the name. "Laaance."

The mermaid appeared to understand that well enough. It lit up with blue again, so that was promising. "Cool. So that's Lance...and I'm Hunk. _Hunk_." He motioned to himself with his hand, similar to how the mermaid had done earlier. "Lance..." Lance. "Hunk." Himself.

Recognition sparked across the mermaid's features and it blinked at him, pushing itself up a little straighter. It seemed to consider him for a moment, thinking...and then gave Hunk the one diving signal he could easily understand: "OK."

Hunk exhaled on a laugh. Lance was going to be beside himself when he came back.

A series of insistent clicks drew his attention back to the mermaid as it clumsily pawed towards itself, looking at him expectantly.

"Uh...yes?"

That was apparently the wrong answer, because the mermaid flickered a brief, dark green as it flashed its teeth at him. And he wasn't sure what _that_ was supposed to mean either, but all signs pointed to either annoyed or exasperated. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one frustrated by the language barrier.

That didn't deter the mermaid though. It simply pressed its hand against the glass and bumped its head towards the tablet, flashing blue.

"...Lance?" he guessed.

The mermaid croaked, and then brushed its chest with the side of one wrist, flashing purple.

"Y...ou? Why would you— _ohhhh_." The realization hit Hunk all at once. "You want to know what your name is? Or, uh, I guess, what we call you?"

It was more words than the mermaid was probably expecting so the confused look on its face made sense. It just repeated the gestures though, Lance, then itself—like Hunk was the one having trouble understanding.

The thought was dizzying in its ridiculousness. Hunk ran a hand back through his hair. This was so surreal.

"Uhh...well, Lance calls you 'Red.'" He pointed at the tablet, then the mermaid. "Lance, Red. Red?"

The mermaid's nose wrinkled at the name and it leaned back, as if he'd gone and said something unpleasant. Which...given the circumstances, was entirely possible.

"We don't have to call you that," he amended quickly, holding up his hands and setting the tablet aside. "We can pick something else. Liiike...how about Hermes? That's sort of like 'mermaid'. Hermes?"

It sent him a flat look.

"Alright, so...not that." He scratched the back of his head. "What about Elba? Taylor?"

Actually, come to think of it...what even _was_ the mermaid? Lance kept insisting it was female, but as far as Hunk could tell it didn't have any sort of defining chest features, let alone breasts. It was just smooth, white skin. There was nothing on its body which visibly said _boy_ or _girl_. It just...was.

Well, he thought, it couldn't hurt to try.

"How do you feel about the name 'Mara'?"

The mermaid clicked its teeth.

 

* * *

 

His first few days alone on the base, Hunk had somewhat of a routine. He'd wake up around four, take his pain killers and lie in bed until they stopped the worst of his aches and pains. Through no small amount of effort, he'd get himself up and into his chair in time for the 5:00 A.M. data stream, send up any reports or recorded messages, and then slowly get ready for the rest of his day.

That usually meant a quick wash and a shave if he felt up to it (he hadn't, initially), breakfast, a quick check on the then-comatose mermaid, and several cooling packs before he tried to decide what he was going to tackle for the day.

Now, however, Hunk found himself jerking awake with a start to the sound of loud, impatient thumping at three in the morning. Because of course, like everything else about the mermaid, its sleep schedule was completely atypical too.

"Okay, okay... I'm coming," Hunk groaned miserably, dragging his hands down his face and forcing himself out of bed.

It was the third night in a row he'd done this, and each time his arrival to the room where the cryo-replenisher sat was met with insistent clicking as the mermaid pushed its clawed fingers into the glass and pawed at it, trying to grab a foothold on the smooth surface. As soon as it saw him it blinked the white membrane from its eyes and gave another series of clicks, snapping its teeth at him in what he was quickly coming to glean as an expectant gesture.

Hunk sighed and scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"What is it?" he asked sleepily, stifling a yawn. "Iss'it food again? 'Cause I already told you, you ate all the fresh meat we had two days ago."

The mermaid flashed a series of colors at him that Hunk still had yet to understand the meaning of, but when it gestured to the tablet he'd set up on a cart in front of the chamber for it, realization dawned on him. The screen was dark.

"Oh...it died again huh? Alright. Just give one sec to plug it back in..."

Of all the many, _many_ odd things about the mermaid so far, the fact that it was absolutely fascinated by and enjoyed screensavers was by far one of the most unexpected. Hunk had set his tablet aside once with the screen unlocked during one of his many attempts to record and catalogue the creature's vocalizations until he could get ahold of Pidge, and as soon as it had cycled to save power the mermaid had just started _chattering_.

Hunk suspected it had something to do with the combination of light and movement sparking some sort of hunting reflex, like a cat spying a bird from the window. Only larger and more unsettling.

It was a sight he'd adjusted to with shocking swiftness. Here he was, the middle of the night, not even fazed by the mermaid's impatient clicking as he retrieved the extension cable and plugged the tablet back in.

This had somehow become his new normal.

 _Or as close as I ever seem to get these days_ , he thought with an internal sigh. He hoped that Pidge and Lance were faring better up on the ship. Lance had sent down a video update and he'd managed to have a very careful conversation with Pidge over the radios once she'd felt up to it, but it wasn't as if he could come out and ask if she'd found anything on the Altea front without alerting them. Likewise, they couldn't exactly ask how their newest guest was doing either. It was all very vague communications mixed in with actual work.

The upside to it all was that now that the mermaid was more or less healed, he could take his turn as soon as he got it back into open water. That was today's project.

He took one look at the mermaid, hands pressed to the glass and an intent look on its face as it followed the streaking of pixelated shapes and colors across the screen, and decided coffee would definitely come first.

The mermaid hardly noticed. Heck, it barely even looked up when he came back a good twenty minutes later with a tray of breakfast and mug in hand. It was only when he actually started eating that the creature finally tore its eyes away from the screen and fixed its gaze on him instead.

But even this was starting to become routine by now. For whatever reason, the mermaid had a strange fascination with watching him eat. At first, he'd thought it wanted his food and had tried to offer it some, but the mermaid had turned its nose up at preserved meat and potatoes. It wasn't interested in anything cooked and preferred raw foods, which wasn't surprising. It wasn't as if it had the means to prepare food the way a human would.

As far as he could tell, the fixation had something to do with his mouth. Probably his teeth? Who even knew with mermaids. It could just enjoy the movement, same as the tablet. But whichever it was, the mermaid never failed to stop what it was doing and study him like a hawk until he'd finished, soft purple-greens pulsing quietly along its sides.

He considered the mermaid for a moment as he sipped his coffee.

"How about... Akira?"

The mermaid gave a brief flash of dull green, and Hunk shrugged in defense. "Just asking. You know you being picky about names is the reason I'm still calling you 'The Mermaid'." He gave the coffee in his cup a brief swirl, then downed the last of it. "Ari? Kael. Maddison."

All names got rejected with similar flashes and Hunk set his empty tray and mug aside with a sigh. "Alright, fine, but don't blame me when you wind up stuck with 'Red.'"

He clapped his hands together, carefully working his way over to the replenisher and tapping to activate the interface panel. "Hhhokay. The machine says you're good to go, so in a minute here I'm going to open the bottom seal. Not like you understand me anyway... But just try and swim down, okay? Down." Hunk pointed emphatically towards the base of the chamber, and the mermaid's gaze followed.

It didn't look like it understood, but Hunk tapped a few buttons on the console, and though it flinched terribly towards the ceiling when the machine whirred to life, as soon as the bottom of the replenisher slid away to reveal open water below, comprehension dawned on the mermaid's face and it twisted its body in a way no human's was ever meant to, bending more or less in half in order to double down and wriggle its way out to freedom.

A live feed from the external cameras showed him the mermaid as it burst its way from the end of the tube, fins fanning out with obvious relief. Being cramped up in a tiny space like that for days on end had probably been tough for it. The mermaid looked relaxed now in a way it definitely hadn't while in the cryo-replenisher.

He was a little sore when it levelled out and took off without even a backwards glance, but he wasn't surprised. He would've been stoked to get out and away if that were him, too. Besides, he had other things to occupy himself with now that the replenisher was freed up. As soon as the bottom of the tank sealed itself off once again, Hunk keyed in the decompression sequence to normalize it to the base's own atmosphere and sat back in his chair.

"Just three hours and counting until you're pain-free, Hunk," he told himself. "Then you'll be good as new."

He couldn't wait.

And apparently, neither could the mermaid. Hunk had just barely wheeled his way out in the hall with the intent on checking on hydroponics when there came a _thwump!_ off to his side that nearly gave him a heart attack.

His head whirled around just in time for him to catch the end of a dark tail disappear, before the mermaid's head drifted into view.

"Can you not?!" Hunk yelped, clutching his chest. "Why?? How—you went home! You're back already?"

The mermaid responded by opening its mouth and knocking large teeth against the glass, gnawing at it.

Hunk groaned.

 

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 05.12.2316.11.09_

 

"Hey guys, Hunk Garrett! Reporting in, because I am definitely not dead or anything like that. But I may have accidentally slept...through yesterday's data stream, heh... Sorry about that. Totally fine down here! Won't happen again. Feeling _good as new_ , if you know what I mean. Arm, neck, leg, the whole deal.

"Got the farms mostly started now. Should have actual vegetables in a few months. Go team _Derceto_!

"Speaking of team, when are you guys coming back? The _company_ down here could use a little work, seeing as how it's just me. Can someone call me as soon as the interference clears up? Please?

"Oh, before I forget: can someone send down a file with all those diving signals the Garrison teaches? Figure I should, y'know...brush up. Just in case."

 

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 05.11.2316.11.10_

 

"Hunk again. Hunk Garrett, Engineer in charge of Hydroponics... Do I really have to say that every time? You guys know it's me, it seems a little silly to keep saying it all the time. Anyway. Daily report! Got your message from the other day and sent Rover out to deal with the gross remains you guys asked for. Seriously. Attaching buoys to that thing was probably the most disgusting thing I've ever done.

"I'm releasing it on schedule, so T-minus nineteen minutes until giant, monster fish-butt. Yuck!"

 

* * *

 

 

_LOG DATE: 05.06.2316.11.11_

 

"Heyyy, so, Hunk again. Hunk Garrett, lead engineer for our mission. Another status update for you guys up there: when you come down you're going to need to bring another series of bulbs for the southeast spotlight. Ours...uh, broke. Probably just old and worn out, no reason to be worried or anything like that. Komar hull integrity is still at a nice, stable, ninety-six percent.

"Nothing else to report, other than how terrible Lance's jokes are. All _reds_ down here are still...green, I guess. The mud's all settled around the base, but I'm still getting that weird interference. Can you tell Coran that workaround he suggested didn't really, uh, work? I'm going to try sending Rover up to help boost the signal later today. Over and out!"

 

* * *

 

_LOG DATE: 05.23.2316.11.21_

 

"Hunk Garrett here. Today's stream is gonna be a little late coming up, but hopefully it makes it to you. Got a big batch of local sound files for you to sift through when you've got a minute, Pidge. Should be helpful with that new algorithm you're working on. I've started a prototype that I want to test out, but attaching it where it's supposed to go miiiight...be a little bit of a problem.

"Speaking of problems though... I think we might have one. See, I was checking the ambient monitoring programs Pidge set up before the whole sea monster thing, and you know that signal you found when it showed up? Well I've been picking u—

"—ight be—

"—

"—at. Som—

"—o?

"—

"—

"——————"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand there was definitely a huge delay between this chapter and last. Major apologies for that :c Season 7 brought with it a lot of burnout in general for me, and then one of my cats broke their leg, and then I found a _new_ kitten the same day and work's been ramping up... Suffice to say, this is the busiest (and most stressful) time of the year for me, so updates will be spotty until the new year. My current goal is one chapter a month, but it might be more reasonable to say one chapter ever 1.5-2...but we'll see.
> 
> Thank you all again for your support, comments, kudos, and questions about this fic! And an extra-special thank you to anyone who sent me a DM or poke over the last two weeks, either to help out with my cats or reach out to me in general<3 You guys make writing this so, so worth it.
> 
> You can keep up with me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 Want to be in the know about TDD or things in general? Come on by!


	15. Causation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sea snakes, conspiracies, and polyps, oh my...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas for this chapter: [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/pseuds/Silvamoon) | [Jemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard) | UNNAMED MYSTERY BETA, you know who you are.
> 
> I am so sorry this update took so long guys--this chapter is about three times the length of a normal one though, so enjoy c:

Much to Lance's disappointment, they did not, in fact, wind up sawing the sea snake in half so they could stitch it back together like a fishy cyborg. Pidge vetoed the idea almost immediately.

"You're kidding, right? There's no way we're cutting something like that in half until we've had time to study it."

"Come on! It's already practically smushed thanks to Hunk ramming it," he said. "It's not like it's getting less crushed anytime soon." Which really was a shame, he thought privately. After what it did to Red, that thing couldn't be made into fish paste fast enough.

Pidge fixed him with a hard stare.

"We're keeping it, and we're transporting it. Go get your diving suit on."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're the only one who can go out there and help me gather up all the pieces."

So yeah. Suckage.

No fish paste, no cyborgs, just him in the open water, gathering up nightmare fuel while Pidge piloted Rover overhead for support. Not that the poor little ROV could do that much, but he had to admit that it felt much better to have her hovering over his shoulder to keep an eye on things while he struggled to move something whose maw, now slackened and crooked, was large enough to swallow him whole with ease.

Each tooth was easily as long as one of his hands, which Lance kept well away from the segmented bits of its mouth as he dragged the thing's corpse across the sea floor one bit at a time, panting inside his suit.

By the time they had it secured inside a particle net, Lance was sweating bullets inside his suit and had to drag himself back on board the Komar to shower. His body ached all over and his hands shook to the point of numbness, but despite it all he forced himself to help Pidge load up the _Derceto_ and get things as cozy and comfortable for Hunk as possible.

It was hard to see his best friend in such a rough state, but he reminded himself firmly that it could have been much worse and plastered a confident smile onto his face.

"You just rest up. We'll be back before you know it. And yours truly will call you every day. Okay?"

He laid a hand on Hunk's shoulder and the other man offered a brief crook of his mouth.

"Yeah... Thanks, man. Be careful going back up there."

Lance gave a two-fingered salute and winked.

"Will do, Mutinous Team Leader."

And then they just...left.

It was abrupt and felt like there should have been more, but they were on a schedule thanks to the sea state above. There was a two-hour window for them to make it back up to the top, and with the ship as prepped and ready as it was going to be, they had no reason to delay any further. They each gave Hunk a careful hug, and with one last longing look sent towards the cryo-replenisher where Red hung motionless in the water, Lance dragged himself away.

 _Red'll be fine,_ he told himself, settling into the pilot's seat. _Hunk's there to look after her. Nothing's gonna happen_.

He sent a sidelong glance to Pidge at her station, and she nodded. Lance returned the gesture.

"Dropping weights in three, two...one. Surface, be advised we are making our ascent."

"Copy that, _Derceto_ vessel. See you in an hour, fifteen."

"Actually, make that approximately two," Pidge corrected. "We've got an extra couple hundred pounds of dead sea monster with us."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then,

"...Understood. See you then, _Derceto_. Please continue to check in every fifteen to twenty on your ascent."

The line clicked as it went dead and Lance sighed as he sunk back in his seat, running a hand over his face. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and pass out for the next year. But he had work to do. Gauges and meters to check. Distance to keep track of, and—

"They're going to be fine, Lance."

Pidge's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned back to look at her, surprised. The expression on her face wasn't pitying, but understanding. She felt the same.

"They're going to be fine," she repeated. "The replenisher will fix Red up in a couple of days, and Hunk's injuries aren't life-threatening. He's got enough food and water to last him three years now that it's just him down there." Her lips quirked wryly, though thinner than he was used to seeing from her. "Our biggest concern right now is making sure we have a ship to go back down there in, and figuring out where the heck this thing we're towing came from. That's going to help us all a lot more than thinking about what could go wrong."

"I know," he said, frowning at the armrest of his seat. "I just...I'm tired. My everything hurts. Think I feel a headache coming on, too."

It was all true, but saying it brought him back years, to when he'd been a young child making excuses not to go into school. It made him feel...small. Less than what he should be. A real leader would've taken all this in stride and wouldn't let it get to him. They would've been stronger. Better prepared. They wouldn't have let Red get hurt like that.

"Did you take your shot after the dive?" Pidge asked.

"...Not yet."

"Well, that's probably not helping. I'll take the helm—if we show up and Coran finds out we've been skimping on security protocol, nearly getting eaten will be the least of our worries." She pulled herself out of her harness and made her way over with a nod. "Go on. Last thing we need is for me to have to save you again," she joked, and this time her smile was just a little warmer, a little more genuine. Still stressed, but fond.

Lance found himself returning it.

"Alright...but for the record," he said, "you're totally not cleared to actually drive this, so I'm turning on the autopilot. Whatever good that'll do since we're down every fan but like, two right now."

She stuck out her tongue at him and Lance found himself letting out a scoff of a laugh as he unbuckled himself and switched out with a brief high-five. "Take care of her, she's one-of-a-kind."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Literally. Go, shoot yourself in the arm already so your head doesn't explode."

"Gross. And also, not at all how that works," he called back, popping open his locker to retrieve a medical gun and load up a cartridge.

He pressed it to his arm and held his breath as he pulled the trigger, and though he winced as the needle pierced his skin, he felt the same sense of relief and prickle of warmth on his skin from before. All very likely psychosomatic reactions and not actually because the shot was instantly making him feel better, but he decided there was nothing wrong with pretending, just for a moment.

 

* * *

 

"Thank heavens you're both alright...! We were worried sick!"

Peace and quiet: officially over.

Lance wasn't surprised that their arrival back on the _Castleship_ was met with a bit of a fuss, but it was more than a little disorientating to be rushed out of the ship for an immediate debriefing-slash-physical, at least on his end. Pidge had been on the base for the entire attack and didn't need any poking or prodding, which meant that she took care of most of the questions while he was busy being blinded by the light the medical staff insisted on shining into his face to check his...whatever. Or something.

All he really recalled was being told his eyes were a bit bloodshot, to which Lance could only stare as if to say _no, really?_

"We told you we were fine yesterday, Coran," Pidge replied, and how she managed not to sound totally beat, Lance would never know. His eyelids might as well have been sandbags as he fought to keep them open, stifling a yawn as he sunk further into his seat and folded his arms across his stomach.

"Oh no, no you don't, young man!" Coran piped up, disrupting him with a sharp clap. Lance startled with a rough inhale and quickly uncrossed his arms, blinking drunkenly as the other man continued. "Come on now, up you get! No falling asleep until we get the results back on your labs. _And_ I want your full account of what happened down there with that hideous thing you brought back up with you."

Lance groaned and brought both hands up to rub over his face. "Can't it wait, just, like, five hours? I haven't slept in a billion years and my everything hurts."

"Afraid not; time is of the essence! The sooner we finish up here, the sooner we can clear you both."

Iverson, who'd been standing at Coran's side in silence for the majority of their reunion thus far, cleared his throat and stepped forward. "According to the information sent up by the Komar in the latest stream, you picked up some sort of signal before the creature attacked?"

"Not a signal," Pidge spoke up, which was a good thing because Lance didn't have a clue about any of that, "it sounded more like a distortion. Or a more butchered form of sonar. I'd need more time to analyze it properly, but it's possible that it was a vocalization of some kind. A mimicry."

"You're talking about the creature," Iverson guessed.

She nodded.

"It's possible. From what we could tell at first glance, it doesn't seem to have any eyes. And Lance said it used sounds to figure out where to hunt. It could be some kind of lure. It heard the base, thought it was prey, and tried to use its own signal to trick it."

Lance felt his stomach drop at the idea, and from the looks of things, Coran and Iverson had similar feelings on the matter.

"But," Pidge continued, putting emphasis on the word, "that's only speculation. We'd need to study it and the recordings I took more in-depth before I could draw any kind of conclusion like that."

"Well, as luck would have it, you were able to transport it mostly intact," Coran sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Emphasis on the 'mostly.' You said Hunk rammed it?"

"With the _Derceto_ , yeah," Lance nodded, feeling a swell of pride bubble up inside his chest. "It was pretty badass."

Iverson lifted a brow and he quickly sat up straighter, pushing his fingers together. "And, uh, not in line with Garrison regulations when it comes to sea-life and stuff like that," he amended quickly, "but—"

"It's fine, McClain," Iverson shook his head. "Diver and operator safety take priority. Especially in this case, with the operation already being delicate enough as it is. I'd say Mister Garrett made the right call in this particular case. Nasty-looking thing."

"Total nightmare fuel," he agreed, tacking on a belated 'sir.'

The corner of Iverson's mouth twitched, just slightly.

Coran sighed.

"Yes, well, it seems we'll have ample time to pick that monstrosity apart because of that. Our technicians say it'll be at least a week to fly out the parts we need to repair the _Derceto_ , and another two or three to make sure it's all in working order."

"Wait, so you're saying Hunk's going to be stuck down there for a month?" Lance balked. "I thought it was just the fans that were busted!"

"I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that," Coran said apologetically. "We can't in good conscience put it back in the water unless we're entirely certain there's nothing wrong with it. We'll need to do an entire diagnostic on all of its systems to make sure nothing else was damaged."

"We'll be contacting Mister Garrett as soon as we've finished debriefing you here to make sure he's alright," said Iverson. "Worst-case scenario, the base is outfitted with a bathysphere for emergency evacuation. We also have the option of sending supplies down via weight that he can retrieve with the ROV still on the base."

It was all stuff Lance already knew after all their drills and preparation for the mission in the first place, but hearing it out loud and being reminded of the fact that he wouldn't be going down to see Hunk or Red anytime soon was an uncomfortable pill to swallow. There was nothing he could do but wait for the ship to be repaired and hope that he'd be able to radio Hunk himself sooner rather than later to check in.

"In the meantime," Coran continued, "I'd like the both of you to give us your accounts of what happened, from start to finish. Preferably with as much detail as possible."

All eyes in the room turned to Pidge, who turned to him, and Lance sighed.

His story wasn't exact to the events as they'd happened on account of him leaving Red out of it entirely, but he did his best as he walked through the mission prep, going out to the drop-off into the Kraydah, the fight with the leviathan, and the resulting aftermath. He glossed over the bit where Hunk got injured, taking them well into the afternoon before Coran and Iverson were satisfied.

There would be no negative repercussions for what had gone down; more than anything, they were just glad that they'd returned safely. The fact that they'd brought up a (mostly) intact specimen of a never-before-seen species was a huge bonus, apparently. As soon as he and Pidge were given clean bills of health they were dismissed, and Lance lasted just long enough to make it to his room before collapsing onto his bed face-first, and promptly passing out.

He awoke feeling like he'd been hit by a steamroller, mouth dry and throat parched. For just a moment he was confused, disoriented by the change in scenery. Then, little by little the details started to sink in: the digital clock, his bedside table, the dirty (clean?) clothes strewn all over floor.

It all came rushing back to him; the Komar. Monster fish. _Castleship_.

Lance buried his face back into his pillow with a groan, smothering himself until he'd rubbed all the grime from his face off onto it and grimacing.

A shower was definitely in his future.

As he pulled himself up and got ready enough to head for the communal showers, Lance staggered over to Pidge's door and knocked several times.

"Pidge...? You up yet?"

He raised his hand to stifle a yawn, waiting for a response, when one of the researchers passing by came to a stop and piped up helpfully, "If you're looking for Miss Holt, she's already gone off to help below deck with the specimen you brought up yesterday."

Lance stared dumbly. "Oh... Thanks, uhh..." The woman flashed him a faint, amused smile as he realized with a flush of guilt that he couldn't recall her name for the life of him.

"Doctor Te-Osh," she said.

"Te-Osh," Lance repeated quickly, face warm. "Sorry... Long, uh, week."

"It's quite alright," she assured him with a shake of her head. "Word among the crew is you've had plenty to do down there. The samples your team has sent up so far have been fascinating."

"Hah... Yeah, that's one way of looking at it." Another would be awful, but he chose to hold that little thought back and bring the conversation back around to his initial goal. "So, you said Pidge is helping out with the snake-fish?"

Te-Osh nodded. "Yes, we'll be performing a dissection later today." Her eyes twinkled with something akin to mirth. "Would you like to come watch?"

"Uh...no, thanks." Lance forced a grin. "I'm good."

Seeing it up-close and personal from the outside had been bad enough. He had absolutely zero interest in the thing's insides.

Luckily, she didn't seem surprised by his response and merely nodded. "You'll probably want to eat lunch sooner rather than later, then. On account of the odor."

 _Or not at all,_ he thought with a disquieting churn of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

The thing people often forgot about Pidge was that even though her specialty happened to be in the sounds produced by the denizens of the ocean, she was still very much a marine biologist and no stranger to the odd dissection for study. After all, how was she supposed to know how the creatures she studied made noise in the first place if she didn't understand the way their bodies worked? Heck, even before the years of study she'd done in school, Pidge had spent years following her father's work.

She'd been scarcely ten years old the very first time her father allowed her to help prepare a trout they'd caught one summer while camping. She'd hated the outdoors part of it, but scaling and gutting a fish? No problem. By the time her first dissection cropped up in school, Pidge had been on enough family trips to be well-versed in the art of taking apart fish.

This was just more of that, albeit on a larger scale.

A much, _much_ larger scale.

Which is how Pidge found herself crowded below deck with at least a dozen others at the crack of dawn, all struggling to lift a blue tarp filled with several tons of stinking, gelatinous fish flesh.

For all that deep-sea creatures were well adapted for life in their own environment, they certainly weren't great anywhere else. Complex proteins broke down at high pressures, and that meant most life was simpler. Soft. Less solid. Everything that helped the leviathan keep its sleek form in the deep was gone at sea level, leaving them with a bloated body and saggy, distorted features that they couldn't hope to make sense of on first pass.

But damned if they weren't going to try.

"Okay everyone, let's get it out of the pool!" called the leader of their hastily-assembled dissection crew, a stout man by the name of Dr. Tenner. He specialized in abyssal biodiversity, if she recalled correctly. They hadn't spoken formally yet. "On the count of three. One...two...three!"

Everyone heaved with one great pull, and Pidge gritted her teeth with the effort it took to lift it up, water pouring over the edges of the tarp as they slowly, painstakingly drew it out of the pool they'd had it in to depressurize overnight.

The whole process took nearly twenty minutes of straining and grunting, readjusting their hold while trying to make sure none of the run-off took bits of the fish with it. More than one person slipped as sea water slicked the concrete floor, but their efforts were rewarded and within the hour it was laid out over four long, stainless steel tables that they'd strung together; no single lab had enough room to work with the creature without splitting it further.

"Looks like the total length is about...nine meters," one of the lab technicians reported, unable to keep the disbelief and apprehension out of their voice.

"And you're saying you found this at the same depth as the Komar?" Tenner asked, turning to Pidge.

She nodded. "Yes, but that was just where we encountered it. According to sonar data and what Lance saw out in the water, it actually came up out of the Trench."

"How is that possible?" asked another researcher, dumbfounded. "Something that large with such an advanced skeletal structure couldn't possibly support itself that far down..."

"Well, it did," said Tenner. "And now our job is to figure out how. Kyeong, Patel, we'll start with the base skeletal structure. Figgis?"

"On it!"

"I call cranial and oral cavity structure," Pidge said, raising a hand. "This thing has some seriously sophisticated vocal capabilities. I want to get a better look at them, see what I can figure out."

It was the science equivalent of a bidding war after that, each researcher vying for the portion of the leviathan they wanted to study. The ichthyologists were the first to get dibs, rolling in every 3D scanner on the ship in order to collect their data. Non-invasive tissue sampling came next, and finally, _finally_ , came the rest and Pidge eagerly joined the hoard of greedy academics just itching to get their hands dirty with their new find.

She didn't share the same mindless enthusiasm as her peers on account of it nearly killing two (three?) of her best friends, but even Pidge had to concede that it was fascinating. Up-close, the leviathan was like nothing she'd ever seen before—and not just because it was horribly bloated and disfigured after its journey to the surface.

"Look at its mouth," she said, indicating the creature's maw, its jowls laid out crooked and misaligned on the table. "This sort of adaptation... I've never seen it before."

"Haven't examined too many conger eels then, hmm?"

Pidge glanced up and found a woman with frizzy brown hair smiling at her knowingly. Pidge recognized her as one of the fish specialists, Te-Osh, who'd fought to carry out the preliminary scan work.

"No," she shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, you're saying this thing is an eel?"

"As far as we can tell," she said. "We're not too sure on the specifics, but it seems to share a number of characteristics of the much more sedentary garden variety. You're saying this one was out in open water, alone?"

"Yeah." Pidge frowned at the memory, expression drawing into a hard line. "I only detected it as it was clearing the drop-off, though. We didn't have a visual on where it came from before that."

Te-Osh looked thoughtful as she leaned over to get a better look at the leviathan's distended face, examining a flesh globbule that was nearly as large as a watermelon. Pidge couldn't help but hope that Te-Osh was wrong in her assessment, and that there _wasn't_ an entire colony of these things rooted down in the Kraydah.

"It shares some characteristics of the larvae we've been observing in the sediment samples your team has been sending up. From what we've observed they seem to be the burrowing sort though, which is at odds with this particular individual."

"What isn't odd about this whole adventure?" said Pidge, wryly, pulling a faint chuckle from the woman.

"Quite true. Would you like any assistance with your current task?"

"You mean sorting through this giant mess of fish-goo, trying to find its thorax? Please." Pidge moved aside to welcome Te-Osh over as she grabbed a scalpel, motioning to the crooked angle at which its jowls hung. "This thing is either bloated so much its jaw popped out, or it's just naturally that charming."

"I imagine it's a bit of both," Te-Osh replied with no small measure of mirth, carefully moving gloved hands to the underside of its massive jaw and coaxing it closed, stretching the bloated skin enough that Pidge could move in and begin slowly drawing her blade across it.

Flesh parted and split open like...well, like a jellyfish, the sort seaside vendors loved to sell during blooming season back home. The outer layer was a little tougher and stuck together like a casing, but the inside was congealed and pulpy, and the moment she cut into it the smell of ammonia that rushed out was so overpowering she coughed, eyes tearing up.

"Th-that's disgusting," she choked, bringing the back of her wrist up, under her nose. At her side, Te-Osh looked similarly perturbed, rapidly blinking and trying not to breathe too deeply.

"Are you alright to continue...?"

Pidge nodded, lips pursed firmly together and throat tight from the effort it took to keep her composure, but she refused to let this disgusting thing get the better of her. A moment to steel herself and regain her composure, and Pidge was lifting the scalpel anew to pick up where she left off, slicing a clean line from the leviathan's lower jaw to midway along what she hoped was the length of its throat, almost three feet in length.

"Alright, let's see what we've got here..." she said, adjusting her medical mask and leaning in. "Looks like the usual. I can see what's probably the heart and stomach right here... Possibly a liver." Pidge squinted through her glasses as she pulled the upper flap up, carefully pushing yellow and brown-tinted innards aside as she sought to finagle her way deeper.

"Wait, what's that?" Te-Osh murmured, stopping Pidge in her tracks as she reached out and motioned to a bulbous deformity further up. It was opaque, like a squid's eggs, but at least three times larger than any she'd seen.

"...Dunno." It was baffling. "A swim bladder? But that would make no sense... Here, hold this open for me," she said, moving back so Te-Osh could pry open the incision with both hands.

With the extra space she was able to get a better look at the strange growth, and ran careful fingers along it until she could trace its outline.

"It's some sort of organ, I think," she said. She dismissed the possibility of any sort of internal egg clutch and stroked it thoughtfully with her thumb, completely and utterly unprepared when it ruptured without warning and sprayed them both with a foul-smelling brine.

The sound of shocked disgust was dwarfed only by the sudden need to retch as she pulled her hands back and doubled over, heaving as she ripped off her mask and got rid of her glasses, scrubbing frantically with a sleeve to get it off.

"Ugh—! What th... _Gross_...!" Pidge moaned, stumbling back as her stomach gave another violent churn when she heard Te-Osh coughing and retching at her side, coating the floor a second time.

The stuff was _foul_ , worse than anything she'd tasted before. It was like someone had mixed salt water, ammonia, and rotten eggs with grenadine. Pidge didn't hesitate when a wet cloth was thrust into her hand, hastily wiping at her face to dampen the smell. She didn't even bother trying to return it; she just threw the soiled cloth to the floor, jacket following not a second later.

"Dr. Te-Osh! Miss Holt!" It was...Tenner? Sounded like Tenner, but Pidge couldn't care enough to ponder it. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching was coming from everywhere, but all she could focus on was the way her stomach heaved again. "Miss Holt, are you alright? Bring the eye wash station over here...! Call someone from medical."

"I'm fine," she heard Te-Osh insist thickly from off to her left, voice raw and uneven.

Pidge didn't trust herself enough to answer without hurling everywhere and waved off any attempts to help her as she doubled over, throat working uncomfortably as she tried to just breathe.

When the mobile eye wash was forced against her face she made an unhappy sound, but didn't fight it. She did her best to hold still as water battered her eyes until the salty burn dulled to something more tolerable and she could wave them off. She accepted two more face cloths and a bucket before she found the strength to raise her head again, face flushed and both nose and sinuses clogged.

It was a far cry better than Te-Osh seemed to be doing, still crouched with a bucket between her knees. But the sight made her own stomach twitch with nauseous sympathy, and Pidge quickly turned away to focus on the researcher hovering at her side.

"Miss Holt, are you alright?" she asked, worriedly.

"That," said Pidge miserably, "was absolutely disgusting. Please tell me it's not toxic."

"We're taking samples for analysis right now," she said. "You should rest for a minute. Someone from medical is on their way."

"Great..." she groaned. Just what she needed.

Pidge allowed them to herd her over to a nearby stool, making a face at the foul taste still lingering in her mouth. Someone handed her a bottle and Pidge didn't hesitate to rinse her mouth out. Several times.

 _Wouldn't have happened if you'd been wearing safety goggles,_ a voice inside her head grated, and Pidge resolutely ignored it.

Who the heck had ever heard of a fish exploding _after_ decompression, anyway? This was just—stupid. Disgusting, and stupid, and this whole thing couldn't possibly get any worse.

Then she caught sound of Te-Osh hurling in the background, and felt her own stomach give a sudden lurch.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, whatever Pidge had been sprayed with wasn't poisonous. But it was absolutely fetid, and when the stench began spreading throughout the ship, they had no choice but to open every single door and window they had in the hopes of airing it out—and that wasn't even taking Pidge herself into account. One inhale near her was nearly enough to have Lance barfing all down her front; the only thing that saved him had been luck, and a conveniently-placed trash bin.

It was a very disgusting way to begin their return to the _Castleship_ , and things only got worse from there.

The day after the stink-splosion, the doctors on board decided they weren't happy with the incredibly _slight_ levels of nitrogen in Lance's blood, and put him on a regulated schedule of oxygen therapy in the mornings and evenings with a full breathing mask, and a nasal...cannoli? Canola? To be worn at all other times on the ship. Which meant he was the only guy walking around with tubes shoved up his nose and an oxygen concentrator slung over his shoulder like he was some sort of invalid. A perfectly mobile one, but still. He felt _fine_ , and even if it was better to err on the side of caution when it came to that sort of thing, by the second day his shoulder was already sore and his nose itched constantly.

"At least the air you're getting is fresh," one of the other Garrison divers had teased.

Lance glowered at them and gave a petulant huff, trying to cross his arms over his chest and tugging the tube half out of his nose with a yelp. It was every bit as embarrassing as it sounded, and Lance spent a good ten minutes or so that night rubbing moisturizer into the inside of his nostrils.

Bizarrely enough, the inconvenience of having to spend his mornings loafing around in the infirmary was what ultimately saved him from the next awful event to befall the _Castleship_.

He'd just finished his morning round of good ol' O2 and was making his way into the commissary when he noticed a gathering of people all crowded around the hall leading up to it. One or two people were wearing official crew uniforms and seemed to be trying to direct traffic, but most were just general staff who seemed just as baffled as he was.

"Hey... D'you know what's going on up there?" he leaned over to ask, tapping one of people nearest to him on the shoulder with a knuckle.

The woman turned and blinked, eyes glinting with an impish enthusiasm. "You didn't hear? A bunch of those early-bird scientists on first shift got wicked sick. They think it's food poisoning. The whole cafeteria's been shut down until they can figure out what it is."

"Wait, for real? What are we supposed to eat now?" Lance groaned. "I'm starving!"

"They're saying it's MREs for everyone until they can figure out what got contaminated," another crew member chimed in.

The thought was not overly appetizing, but as far as Lance was concerned, it beat blowing chunks everywhere.

He wound up waiting with everyone crowded around for nearly an hour before heated trays were passed out with the express orders to, "notify the crew immediately and report to medical if they felt anything amiss." He grabbed one for Pidge too on the (very) likely chance she'd missed the memo while getting all weird and science-y over the sea snake. And just because he doubted she'd slept much, he snagged a quick canned coffee for her as well and made his way down to the now-dreaded lower decks, where the smell had yet to completely dissipate.

The number of active personnel was noticeably less than before on account of most of them moving to the labs above-deck, but the real try-hards had refused to budge because...heck if he knew. Scientists were a weird bunch.

The strangest thing was though, when Lance poked his head in to see if he could spot Pidge, the room hardly had anyone in it—five people, max. All of them had full-bodied wetsuits, and wore masks and goggles over their faces.

If he had to be honest, it looked a little bit like something out of a sci-fi movie.

"Uhh...hi?" he called, stepping out from behind the door frame. Three of them noticed him immediately, and the other two looked up when he continued speaking. "I'm looking for Pi—uhh, Holt? Crazy hair, giant glasses, kinda short?"

"Miss Holt wasn't feeling so good. She left earlier with a bunch of the others," said one, not missing a beat. "Sore stomachs. Half the team ducked out, so I'd check her room or the infirmary."

"Right...thanks." Oh boy.

Lance forced a smile and went back the way he came, worry already pooling in his gut and he climbed the stairs back to cabin-level and came to a stop in front of Pidge's room. When he knocked it was tentative, ear pressed to the wood.

"Pidge? You, uh...you in there?"

No answer.

Lance pursed his lips. Could be that she wasn't actually here, but better safe than sorry...right? He tried the handle and wasn't surprise to find it give, slowly pushing the door open a crack.

"Pidge...?" he tried again, louder. "I brought breakfast—and coffee."

Silence.

Lance swung the door inwards and peered around the room, not at all surprised to find it a complete disaster area. Her room on the Komar was in exactly the same state of utter chaos; clothing littered the floor and bed, various pieces of equipment, cups, and the like were strewn about in random places. It looked like a tornado had torn the room apart.

 _And yet somehow her desk is always clean_.

Typical Pidge. He shook his head and was prepared to leave when he caught it—a low sound, quiet, but definitely a grunt.

Lance stepped into the room.

"Pidge?"

Now actively listening for it, Lance didn't miss the muffled groan that came from the back bathroom, nor the disgruntled " _uuuuugh_ ," that followed. His shoulders sagged with relief as he let out a sigh, setting the trays aside on the bed (the only clear, flat space available) as he walked over to the bathroom door and placed his hands on his hips.

"Sooo... I'm guessing you were on the early shift today, huh."

A groan answered him instead of words and Lance felt his lips quirk downwards.  "Do you want me to call someon—"

" _No_." The answer came so abruptly it caught him off guard and Lance's mouth snapped shut, waiting several moments to see if she was going to follow it up with anything else.

She didn't. Lance cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Maybe a bucket, or..."

"Just leave me here to die," Pidge said bleakly, voice uneven and muffled.

"Okay, but other than that."

She replied with a noise that was just as agonized as it was frustrated, and promptly kicked the door. Or at least, that's what he assumed the sharp _thump!_ was.

"Just _go_ ," she seethed, and then, after several seconds' delay added, "...water. Leave it outside. If you open this door I swe— _hurggh_."

Lance grimaced and hurriedly backed away at the sounds from within, color draining from his face as he fought back his own disgust.

"Water—got it! Getting that and just gonna pretend I didn't just hear all that."

He was suddenly very grateful for the oxygen therapy they insisted on putting him through, hastily making his way from Pidge's room once he'd gotten the water as he'd promised. It occurred to him only after he'd walked nearly halfway down the hall that he'd forgotten his breakfast back in her room, but the thought of going back made him shudder.

Skipping a meal or two never hurt anyone.

 

* * *

 

When Lance was notified the next day about a call from Hunk, he'd never been more excited or anxious in his entire life as he snatched up the data pad offered to him by the infirmary staff and hastily swiped to answer.

"Hunk? Is everything cool, man? You okay?"

It came out a babble of words strung together with zero finesse, but Lance didn't care. Questions like, _is Red okay? Did something happen_ , sat right on the tip of his tongue, but Lance bit them back and forced himself not to freak out. Everything was probably—

"—fine," Hunk said, sounding confused. "Are you okay? Your voice sounds kind of weird."

"What? Oh. Yeah, they've got me on oxygen again even though I _totally checked out fine in my physical...!_ " He sent a very pointed look in the direction of the physician on duty, who rolled their eyes.

It was nice, after that. Getting to complain to Hunk lifted a weight from his chest that Lance hadn't even noticed was there. For a handful of minutes, it was like things were totally normal. He told Hunk about the extra treatments and the food poisoning that had been going around. The latest headcount put the number of sick people at roughly eight, which was a lot given the size of their crew.

"Can you just get her to call me back as soon as she's doing okay then?" asked Hunk. "It's sort of important."

Lance felt his stomach give an uncomfortable churn and looked quickly around the room.

"Like... _red_ -levels of important?" He felt a little bit like a spy, using codewords like that, and it would have been way cooler if he wasn't gripping the tablet in trepidation.

"It's not an emergency," said Hunk. "But...yeah."

"Is...everything okay down there?" Lance's voice wavered, uncertain. "I mean—you know what I mean. Red's not _in_ the red?"

If something had gone wrong... They didn't even have a _ship_ to send down right now, and even if they did, the trip would take hours. By then Red could be dead. They'd never make in time, he'd never even get to say goodbye—

"It's fine," Hunk assured him, and that would have been enough to calm Lance down if what came next wasn't ultimately the most horrifying and stressful turn of events during a phone call he'd ever experienced.

"It's all the same as before, and if all goes well we should be— _Ohhhh!_ Oh my god, Iiiiiiiiiyai...just remembered! I have! A thing! Big, important thing! Call you back!"

That. _That_ was how Hunk hung up on him.

For several moments Lance just gaped, aghast; face drained of color as he stared down at the tablet with mouth opening and closing. No words coming out. Until...

"Are you freaking _kidding me, Hunk?!_ "

 

* * *

 

It took three days and four calls for Lance to forgive Hunk.

He accepted the first out of panic, rejected the second out of spite, and took the next two when he found out the good news.

Red, Hunk told him, had woken up. The replenisher had finished early for whatever reason, and Red was giving Hunk no shortage of a hard time with its— _her_ , he kept insisting, _all mermaids are a 'her'_ —odd schedule and constant hunger.

 _Atta girl, Red_ , he'd thought, smiling a little vindictively to himself.

Pidge was less pleased, furious that being sick had caused her to miss so much. The minute she found out what had gone on in her absence, she'd pulled the tablet right out of his hands and began drilling Hunk for each and every single detail while Lance was left to sulk, finally free of his oxygen machine and sprawled out on her office couch (Lance refused to step foot in Pidge's mess of a room again) as the pair of them yammered on for hours.

And hours. _And hours_.

It was nice to see Pidge up and about like a real person again, though. The same went for talking to Hunk; he'd missed having someone to turn to and gab with at all hours, and the status updates on Red were a huge plus—when he had time for them. They'd talked a lot prior to Pidge perking up and he'd gotten a nice play-by-play for a day or so, but as soon as she was on two feet again, Pidge had taken over.

Lance got it, really, he did. They were doing some weird sound-program to help them better communicate with the mermaid, and that was a huge deal. Being able to understand what Red was saying would make a world of difference if they could get it to work, and Lance spent a long time wondering just what sorts of conversations they'd have when it was done.

_'Hey Red, how are you? My name's Lance.'_

_'I know. You saved me from that giant fish. Let me show you how grateful I am.'_

Cue an undersea romance story to last the ages.

"—don't know, Hunk. I'm still sifting through all the data on sub-harmonics. This thing has a crazy range, but most of its vocalizations look like they're between 15kHz and 38kHz, but I've got a couple here that are way above that. Try adjusting the frequency slider—"

The major downside of it all, however, was that he had no idea what the heck they were talking about half the time, and they never stopped to take a break. It had been nearly five hours at a time for the past few nights, each conversation stretching much longer than Lance's attention span could hold out. It was nice to hover around and feel like their trio was back together, maybe crack a joke in there when the two of them least expected (or wanted) it, but even he wasn't stubborn enough to outlast two nerds in their element.

"Right! This is officially too much like math class for me," Lance announced loudly, interrupting them both as he swung himself up off the couch and planted his feet on the floor. "I'm gonna go get some sleep, since that's still a thing normal people do."

That one was directed more at Pidge than anything else. He'd noticed the way she was always up before him every morning, and now that her little side-project with Hunk was keeping her up late as well, bags were starting to form under her eyes. If she let it be, that was definitely going to turn into a skincare nightmare well before she got anywhere close to twenty-five.

Just looking at the withered glare she sent him made him feel gross and wrinkled.

"For real though, you look like you got hit by a bus—"

"I'll hit you with a bus if you keep interrupting!" Pidge said, annoyed as she picked up a notebook and sent it hurtling in his direction.

"I'm just saying...!" he yelped, ducking as it sailed overhead and making a break for the door before she could load up with any more ammunition.

Some people could be so ungrateful, honestly.

With his sage advice very obviously not wanted, Lance started off down the hall with a sigh. A quick check of his wristwatch told him it was past eleven. Far too late for the early-morning meeting they were supposed to have tomorrow with Coran about the _Derceto_ 's progress.

Lance made a face and sighed, rubbing a hand over the side of his face and stifling a yawn. A face mask and moisturizer definitely weren't going to solve this one. The best thing to do would be beeline it back to his room and try to grab every last wink he could.

Lucky for him, he knew just the shortcut to take.

Instead of heading straight for the lift, Lance detoured down the hall, further into the borough of offices and labs on that floor—which wasn't an exaggeration. One door could lead to a room of offices, or another hallway which would to several labs with _more_ rooms inside. Anyone smart knew to avoid going into them unless you had to, or had someone with you who knew where you were going.

Or if you had all the spare time in the world during the day, like Lance.

He wouldn't say he was perfect at navigating them—in truth, he'd been lost more than half a dozen times over the last couple of days—but he knew them well enough by now to duck through several sets of twin-doors to shortcut his way to the main hallway, humming under his breath as he stuck his hands in his pockets and briefly considered his chances of convincing Coran to fly in a bunch of nerf guns and point vests. It would be the perfect maze set-up. They could make teams, form strategies and plans of attack...

The sound of something shattering further up ahead made Lance stop abruptly in his tracks, blinking. The hallway in front of him was empty, but up ahead he could see the doors to the main lab were open, so...safe bet was the sound had come from there. And since no one happened to be wailing or cursing, it probably hadn't been that bad; probably a glass or beaker or something.

Still, he wandered over and poked his head in curiously, lifting a hand to rap his knuckles against the door, only to stop mid-motion when he realized that all the lights in the room were off. The only light to see by came from the abyss tanks, the pale glow painting the lab in an icy blue that made it hard to see anything but silhouettes against it.

"Uhh...hellooo? Anyone in here?" he called out. "Cuz...like, if we've got a ghost problem on board, that's really gonna suck for me..."

Lance was mostly joking on that last one, but when no one answered back he had to suppress a shudder, shoulders hunching with a grumble. He was _certain_ he'd heard something. So unless Pidge was secretly right about Altea being some sneaky organization with people sneaking around late at night...

...

Alright, yeah. She was officially getting to him, because now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't _stop_ and Lance made a frustrated sound as he turned to give the room a good once-over. Abyss tanks, check. Bunch of empty desks with stuff all over them, check. Creepy person standing alone in the dark staring at him, check.

"Bwuh—" Lance sputtered, and for once he was actually grateful for the fact that he was too stunned by that harrowing realization to scream; his throat just closed up in a panicked wheeze as he stared, wide-eyed and frozen like a deer in headlights.

At least until Te-Osh blinked at him through the dim lighting and Lance realized with a jolt of panicked relief that he was looking at a regular person. Not a poltergeist or some sort of corporate spy-assassin.

His laugh was still a bit too high-pitched to be normal as he let all the air whoosh out of his lungs, shoulders raised awkward and stiff.

"Te-Osh! Hey! H-ha, freaky meeting you here!" he squawked, Totally Normal. And certainly not rambling. "Like—not _scary_ -freaky, no! Like a, 'man, what a crazy coincidence that I'd find you just standing here in the dark' kind of thing. Uhh. Why...are you standing here in the dark like this? Something up?"

Lance shrugged and forced a grin that felt crooked and nervous, even to him, but refused to give in to the overwhelming need to bury his head in the sand to stave off his embarrassment. The secret to any humiliating situation was to keep your chill. And that's what Lance was. Chill. Chilly. Like ice cubes in a tall glass of fresh iced tea, and...man, yep, this was awkward. Te-Osh didn't saying anything; she just continued to stare.

Time to smoothly squeeze in a diversion.

"So anyway, um...you seem like you're busy here, so I'm just gonna..." he began, gesturing toward the door.

Te-Osh still didn't react.

A creeping sense of uneasiness began to pool in his stomach as Lance slowly turned, finally taking in the unnatural way with which she held herself. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and the way she gazed at him...there was a blankness to her eyes, like she was looking _through_ him rather than _at_ him.

"...Doctor Te-Osh?" he tried again cautiously. He took a step towards her, but froze when something crunched loudly beneath his foot, he yanked it back to reveal...glass? It looked like a slide of some sort.

_The crash from earlier?_

A footstep in front of him had Lance's head snapping up just in time to see Te-Osh take one slow step forward. Then another, and another—but not toward him. She veered off and Lance held his breath as she passed, making her way over to the large abyss tank at the center of the room.

"Te-Osh?"

Still no answer.

Lance watched as she came to a stop in front of it before he approached tentatively, swallowing his nerves.

"Te-Osh...gonna be honest, you're kinda acting really freaky here and I'm about two ticks off from calling someone... I should call someone, right?"

He was mumbling to himself by the end, worrying his lower lip as he came up alongside her and peered over her shoulder. The expression on her face hadn't changed, but now her focus was fixed firmly on the thick layer of glass, eyes lidded and glassy as she reached toward it.

His gaze was so focused on her outstretched fingers that he almost missed the small flicker of movement inside the tank, the faint twitch and curl of familiar, thread-like strands of white...

An icy chill swept through his veins, leaving him transfixed and feeling as though the floor had given out beneath him. He could do nothing as Te-Osh's fingertips came to rest against the glass. The polyp threads within fanned out, his pulse pounding in his ears as it slowly reached out to her, and all Lance could think was _no, no, don't touch it, stop, please_ —

And then something landed on his hand.

 _Plip_.

Warm. Wet.

Lance didn't what it was, but in that moment the Growth's spell was broken and his arms shot out to grab Te-Osh like a trigger had been pulled, yanking them both away from the tank with such abruptness that they tumbled backwards onto the floor in a heap.

For two precious seconds, Lance lay there gasping for breath and clinging to her like a lifeline as adrenaline pumped its way feverishly through his body.

Then he forced himself back into motion, wriggling out from under Te-Osh as he helped coax her into a sitting position.

"Te-Osh? Te-Osh, are you... _oh_ ," he gasped, paling at the sight of twin trickles of blood running from her nose, black under the faint lighting. The same black as the single drop on the back of his hand.

"Oh, _fudge_."

 

* * *

 

The one good thing about everyone on the _Castleship_ keeping odd hours was the fact that somehow, someway, someone would always be awake at any given time. It was, as it turned out, an incredible bit of foresight on Altea's end, because Pidge was none the wiser that anything had even gone amiss until someone came pounding on her door at four in the morning, less than two hours after she'd managed to drag herself off the communicators with Hunk.

They were making progress with the vocalization analyzer. Or...she thought they were. It was hard to tell when they'd only been at it for about a week and she could only debug and analyze the sound files as fast as Hunk could send them: once a day.

 _You should always use the relay_ , Matt would've suggested. Pidge had considered it with a nostalgic smile, but ultimately it wouldn't have been suitable for anything more than simple messages; and it would still be limited to the short amount of time the sea state made it easy to send such large amounts of data.

"Thanks anyway, Matt," she'd murmured under her breath, soft and sentimental.

That tenderness was a far cry from what Pidge was feeling now with someone banging away at her door. She was ready to rip their head off when she finally dragged herself out of bed and yanked the door open, but the irate _what_ she'd had on her mouth died when she saw the uniformed Garrison personnel waiting outside for her, insisting she come immediately to central command.

They didn't even give her time to dress.

Pidge was ushered through the halls in naught but her pyjamas and a loose coat, hair a mess, silently stewing as they moved to the upper levels in silence. Any attempts to probe what it was they needed her for were met with a simple "there's been an incident. Commander Iverson requested your presence immediately," and not much else.

For a moment, her mind raced. Had they found out she knew something was off about the _Kerberos_ mission? Did they somehow decrypt the information on the mermaid she'd been sending back and forth with Hunk? Did they know she _knew_?

Pidge's shoulders grew more tensed the closer they got to the bridge, but the sight that greeted her when she stepped past the daunting metal door wasn't what she was expecting at all.

"I'm _telling you_ , it's that thing! You need to vaporise it, or throw it in the garbage or something!" Lance slammed both hands down on the table and Pidge jumped, startled by the imposing figure he made, partially hunched and face flushed with emotion.

In front of him stood Iverson and Coran, both looking varying degrees of uncomfortable even with the conference table between them; like they half-expected Lance to vault over it to reach them. For some reason Pidge didn't doubt the possibility.

She's never seen him worked up like this before.

"Um..." she said, and immediately all eyes in the room were drawn to her. "Someone mind telling me what's going on? Why is Lance freaking out, and why did I have to come here in my pyjamas?"

"Miss Holt!" Coran took the chance to straighten himself out and escape from under Lance's oppressive stare, once again composed despite the furrow in his brow. "I'm, ah, afraid there's been a little bit of an incident, and Lance insisted—"

"The freaky zombie-plant tried to brainwash Te-Osh!" Lance cut in. "It had her totally under its control, like when we took that sample from it!"

"I think what Lance _means_ to say," Iverson interjected, "is that Doctor Te-Osh had an incident. We won't know for sure what happened until morning, but the most likely cause is either a seizure, or sleepwalking. Neither one of which are caused by samples kept in highly-pressurized tanks."

Pidge could see the way Lance bristled even before he opened his mouth to reply, eyes bright and expression fierce.

"I _know_ what I saw! It wasn't a seizure—she was standing up, and she walked over to the tank so she could touch that...that _thing_."

"Wait, hold up here." Pidge held up a hand. "Are we talking about that sample we took back when we were looking for the ROV?"

" _Yes!_ " Lance threw his arms up in the air in exasperation.

"I thought we sent that in for analysis with Altea weeks ago," Pidge said, looking to Coran pointedly, and the man was quick to hold up both hands.

"We did! Altea sent a report back a couple of days later—I've got it here on my data pad, if you'll just give me a moment."

"You've had the report on you this whole time?" Lance blurted out. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You never asked," said Coran, taken back. "If memory serves, it was classified as some new species of—of anemone." He held out the data pad for them to see, and Pidge moved forward to snatch it up before Lance could do something to damage it in his irate state.

The readout on screen wasn't anything different from the scientific entries she was used to seeing when it came to marine species classification. Everything looked normal. It had no official scientific name yet, but its structure most resembled that of, indeed, an anemone.

Unsurprising.

What was surprising though, was Lance's reaction to it.

"The report doesn't mention any..." She paused, giving Lance a brief glance. "...abnormalities. Are you sure you—"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Lance didn't even wait for her to finish. "I'm telling you, something _weird_ happens when people get too close to it. It's like...it's like it draws you in. Messes with your head, and when you're close enough..." He shuddered, gaze turning inwards. "It's like it tries to grab you."

Silence hung in the room for several seconds, none of them seeming to know what to do or say. But it was Iverson who let out a sigh, uncrossing his arms from his chest.

"I understand you're worried about Doctor Te-Osh. But all signs point to it being an isolated incident; people've been observing that tiny thing for over a month now and we haven't gotten any reports of strange behavior or people falling sick after being in contact with it."

Lance's brow furrowed. "It's not just Te-Osh, alright? I felt it too—twice. When we were taking the sample, and after we brought it back on board. And at first, I thought I was just being paranoid because of the creepy footage we got from the ROV an' stuff. But I swear, that thing was moving _towards_ us when we were in the _Derceto_. I didn't even notice until we were on our way back up. And when it was up in the tanks, it was like..." He floundered, hands gesturing vaguely before he hugged himself stiffly. "It's like it was trying to pull me in. I didn't even realize I was practically knocking my head against the glass until it fogged up on me."

"Lance," Coran's face pinched with worry. "If you thought something might be off, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because apparently I'm the only one who noticed besides Te-Osh," he blustered, sounding both frustrated and hopeless. "Come on, you don't even really believe me now."

"It's not that we don't believe you," Coran tried, but when Lance pursed his lips and fixed him with a pointed stare, he had no choice but to relent. "Alright, it does seem rather far-fetched. But," he raised a finger, "there's no reason we can't give it another once-over. I'll have the teams do another analysis first thing."

That seemed to finally pacify Lance. He looked sullen and grumbled, but eventually huffed out a reluctant, " _Okay_."

That was one duck in a row. But it didn't explain why they'd gone to so much trouble to wake _her_ up as well, and Pidge sighed as she adjusted her glasses.

"Alright, so that's solved. Anyone want to tell me why you guys sent the marine police to wake me up?"

The corner of Iverson's mouth twitched.

"Mister McClain here _insisted_. Quite vehemently."

Pidge groaned and dragged a hand down her face, ignoring the look Lance sent her. She forced her expression to remain calm as she waved a hand.

"Was there anything else?"

Lance stared, betrayed. "Pidge, seriously? You're not gonna back me up here?"

"It's not about backing anyone up. It's about it being butt o'clock in the morning, and I've had less than an hour of sleep," she said, prodding him. "We can't do anything until we know more about what happened to Te-Osh anyway. Let's just sleep and check back in tomorrow. Later today. Okay?"

He didn't look happy. He looked like he wanted to argue further, so Pidge reached over to grab his arm and give a tug. She was met with resistance.

"Lance. Come on."

For a moment it looked like he might hold out, but eventually he let out a muttered, "...fine," and allowed her to drag him from the room with only a short goodbye to Coran and Iverson.

She was expecting his outburst the moment they were out of earshot from the room, so Pidge wasn't surprised with Lance turned on her, eyes bright and expression tight.

"I can't _believe_ you wouldn't back me up in there. You know I wouldn't lie about something like that, there's something wrong with that thing—"

"The report came from the _Castleship_." Pidge cut him off with a glance from the corner of her eye, careful not to let her posture or pace waver.

Lance, however, stopped completely in his tracks and stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

"What? What does that even mean?"

"Coran's report—would you just keep walking?" She huffed, grabbing him again. "Coran said that report came back from Altea weeks ago."

"O...kay? So what? Seriously Pidge, I feel like you're not even listening to me here."

Pidge elbowed him, and he yelped. "Are you listening? I _said_ , the report came from the ship. Not Altea. The header was marked by the company, but the file path showed the upload was local. That report never made it off the _Castleship_."

Now is was Lance's turn to stare, stumbling along after her as he tried to wrap his head around what she was saying.

"Wait, so you mean—"

"We're going to need to take another look at those samples."

"How?" he asked. "By tomorrow they're going to have those locked up tighter than Fort Unilu."

Pidge snorted and puffed out her chest. "Who do you think you're talking to? I might specialize in sound, but I'm still a scientist. And I was there when we extracted it. I'll just offer to help them out, grab the data, and we'll have plenty to analyze when we get back to the Komar. Just relax. I've got this."

She reached up and thumped him on the shoulder, lips quirking.

Lance gave a petulant ' _ow!_ ' and made a show of rubbing it before he replied.

"Well...alright, but seriously. Be careful. you hear me? That thing is dangerous," he said, concern obvious despite the faint smile he tried to muster.

"I believe you," she said, smothering the pang of guilt she felt when his expression turned grateful and relaxed. She kept her face a perfect mask as they walked back to their cabins, giving him a brief 'goodnight.'

She waited until he'd closed his door, then turned back to her own.

And kept walking.

Lance was right: the minute Altea got their act together to take care of the anemone, any chance she had of getting a good look at that thing was going to disappear. Maybe there'd be an inquiry, maybe they'd figure out what happened, but in the end...

 _They'll cover it up again_ , the voice in the back of her head insisted.

_They'll hide it._

_Just like dad and Matt._

There was no way she was going to let Altea cover something else up.

This time, she was going to strike first.

 

* * *

 

Te-Osh was still unconscious when they went to check on her the next morning.

There was nothing immediately alarming about her condition other than some unusual brain chemistry, so there was little to be done until she woke up on her own. They would keep a close watch on her in the meantime, which meant it needed to be business as usual on the _Castleship_.

"In the meantime, you've got much busier things to concern yourselves with," said Coran with no small amount of pep in his voice. "We've finally got some good news: I've been told that the _Derceto_ 's repairs are all finished, and it just passed the last of its stress-tests. You'll be ready to launch first thing tomorrow!"

It was the best timing Pidge could have hoped for.

Her heart was thrumming with nervous energy as they completed their last-minute preparations, and it didn't let up until the moment they touched down in the water and Pidge was reminded how much she hated that split-second feeling of weightlessness as they fell.

The impact was jarring, but not like it had been the first few times. Pidge was better prepared, strapped in tightly as the buoys disengaged and they began to plummet into the depths. Only once they confirmed descent did she sink back in her chair and finally allow herself to relax, closing her eyes as she tried to will away the palpitations in her chest.

And then Lance cleared his throat.

"Sooooo..."

He let that single word hang in the air, looking at her expectantly.

Pidge cracked her eyes open and glanced over slowly. "...Yes?"

"We're finally headed back down, huh. Just Pidge and Lance, goin' to reunite with our main man, Hunk."

"Yeah..." she said slowly. "Our ETA puts us there in about two hours though, so stay sharp."

Lance raised one eyebrow at her, then the other, waggling them. "I'm saying, it's just the two of us. You n' me. Alone. Here. _Together_."

Goosebumps raced down Pidge's spine as she sat upright in her chair, recoiling.

"Lance, are you _hitting_ on me? Seriously?"

"Wh—no! Nononono, _no!_ " he startled, face red in mortification. "Why would you say that?!"

"You were the one doing the eyebrow thing and using that weird voice...! What was I supposed to think?!"

"I was _trying_ to be all covert and stuff! You know, like talking in code?"

"In what way did any of that sound like _code_?!"

"Just tell me if the ship is bugged or not and stop talking about flirting already...!" sputtered Lance, voice rising an octave or two.

"Oh, right," drawled Pidge, snorting as she turned back to the screens in front of her and pressed a few keys. "I forgot you're only interested in ichthyes."

Lance wrinkled his nose. "Ic-thee-what-nows?"

A grin stole its way across her face and Pidge shook her head.

"Never mind. The ship isn't bugged. I triple-checked that the minute we strapped in."

As if she'd do any less after everything that had happened so far. _Hah_.

 _Got that stuff on lockdown_ , she thought smugly, imagining the impishly proud look Matt would've given her.

 _Atta girl, Pidge_.

The thought was bittersweet and sent a tender pang through her chest, turning her smile somber as Lance sank back in his chair with a relieved sound.

"Whew... Okay, cool. So. Any updates from Hunk and you-know-who? I didn't get a chance to talk to him before we left, they had me going through like, every procedure ever to make sure this baby was up and running smoothly again."

"Disregarding your creepy fascination with making everything female and flirting with it... Hunk seemed okay. Said the analyzer's already started picking up patterns, so hopefully we'll be able to figure out some way to communicate soon. Also, you can just call it 'the mermaid', I told you we're okay in here."

"I'm just being cautious! I've been walking on eggshells for almost a month here, cut me some slack," Lance huffed.

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, but after only a few seconds he began tapping his finger restlessly against his arm, looking hesitant as he murmured;

"How'd it go with the...y'know. The samples? For the zombie-plant."

The reminder sent a jolt of panic spiking through her gut, but Pidge forced it down as she intentionally turned her attention back to the monitoring equipment and made as if to busy herself with it, only to pause as she noticed a small blinking notification in the bottom-left corner of her screen.

"Hold up—data stream! Hunk's v-logs should be coming up...!"

Pidge didn't need to fake being excited about that. The logs weren't usually anything new, with how frequently they'd been calling each other, but the huge, delicious batches of sound files and data? _That_ Pidge couldn't wait to get her hands on as she hastily locked onto the broadcast and started downloading as quickly as her fingers could work.

A quick tap and Hunk's face appeared on one of the screens above Lance's head, as bright and relaxed as he ever looked. She recognized the backdrop as one of the labs from 2-B.

"Hunk Garrett here. Today's stream is gonna be a little late coming up, but hopefully it makes it to you."

The timestamp put it at almost half past five, but it wasn't that big a deal. She was more interested in what he had to say about the sound files for her algorithm. Compiling a library of every single sound a mermaid made was as daunting a task as it sounded. Her program had indexed more than four hundred unique vocalizations over the last few weeks alone, and she couldn't wait to get her hands on the rest.

Just the thought of being able to categorize and translate them into something they could understand alone sent a tremble down her spine.

And then the static started.

It started out mild, just some slight distortion in the transmission that made it flicker, but within a minute Pidge could barely make him out. When she checked the data stream on her end, it had all but halted—the signal was barely there.

The last thing either of them heard was Hunk warning them about the same signal she'd picked up, right before the leviathan had attacked them.

Then the feed went dark.

There was a beat of silence—and then Lance grabbed his communicator.

"This is _DSV Derceto_ , hailing Research Station Komar. Hunk? Buddy? Do you copy? Over." Lance waited for several seconds, still and tense in his seat before trying again. "Hunk?"

Static.

"Seriously man, don't pull the same thing as last time, okay? Pick up. Over."

More static.

Lance hailed him again.

And again.

And again.

"Pidge—"

He didn't even need to ask.

"On it!" Pidge was already pulling up every sort of scanner at her disposal and aiming them in a straight shot below. Water pressure, sonar, thermal scans, transmission signals, anything she could use to bring up a picture of what was happening down below.

But even that endeavor bore little fruit.

"I don't get it," she murmured. "Everything's turning up fine, but his signal is nonexistent! It's as if the whole base suddenly went dark... I can see it there—I just can't contact him. There's nothing sending _or_ receiving down there."

" _RSV Castleship_ , be advised: we've lost contact with Alpha Research Station Komar. We're continuing our descent at two-point-seven knots," Lance barked into his communicator. He didn't bother to wait for a reply; he punched the throttle and all of a sudden Pidge was reminded of the slightly queasy sensation that came from riding an elevator.

She gripped the edge of her console on reflex and turned to look back at him.

"Lance, that's way too fast. The ship's not designed—"

"The ship'll be fine," he said tersely. "What we need to do is get down there! Hunk could be in trouble!"

Pidge didn't try to fight him on it.

Her pulsed raced all the way to the bottom, even when the faint, dim glow of the Komar's external lights rose out of the inky darkness below like a beacon.

The base still had power.

And the closer they got, the easier it was to see that, unlike their last encounter with a leviathan, the sea floor was completely undisturbed. There were no ominous clouds of muck to indicate a struggle, and indeed, there seemed to be no sign of a sea monster either.

They tried Hunk again. No answer.

The waters were disturbingly quiet as Lance kicked the fans into reverse to slow their descent and brought them in as fast as he dared. He was meticulous in lining up the _Derceto_ with the base, but even Pidge could see how he fidgeted in his seat, biting his thumb as the mechanisms all locked into place one at a time.

Once the light in the cockpit switched to green, he practically wrenched himself out of his chair in his haste to get to the hatch, leaving Pidge to call after him as she yanked off her own harness and tried to follow suit.

"Hey...! Lance—wait up! Slow down!"

"I can't slow down, Pidge! What if he's hurt? What if he's in trouble?"

Lance barely looked back over his shoulder to reply to her, already climbing his way up the rung ladders by the time she reached the chamber. He disappeared from sight a second later and Pidge was left cursing, struggling to pull herself up after him before he could run ahead and get _himself_ into trouble as well.

It was foolish to run off when they still had no idea why Hunk had stopped broadcasting. If there had been some sort of gas leak, or life support failure, they could be running right into a CO2 trap. But did Lance consider that when he took off? Of course not.

Pidge grunted as she grabbed the spare breathing masks from the wall nearby and hurried after him, for the first time in her life wishing she was more fit. Or at least had longer legs. Or more stamina. Her chest was heaving with breath as she finally caught up with him at the second set of airlocked doors and smacked a mask into his chest with a grunt.

Lance took it with a faint word of thanks as the locks released and they hurried into the central area.

The room looked lived-in, but undisturbed. There was no sign of—

" _Hunk!_ " Lance cupped both hands over his mouth and ran into the room, peering around tables and desks, around corners. Pidge was right behind him, checking the floor just...

Just in case.

She wasn't sure if she felt relieved or worried when they turned up nothing, but Lance didn't give her time to think it over.

"He's gotta be in here," he said, voice thick with determination...or desperation.

"We'll find him," panted Pidge. "Just give me a moment—maybe I can pull up feeds from the internal cameras."

"We don't have time for cameras," Lance tried to protest.

"It's a better idea than running around like a chicken without its head," she said. "Just give me a sec."

A few taps on the main computer and she had all the information they needed. About two dozen different feeds showed up on the screen, but not a single one showed Hunk.

"I don't see him." Lance's voice began to rise with panic. "Pidge, I don't see him anywhere—he's not on here. Why can't I see him?"

Why _couldn't_ they see him? He had to be here. Even if something had happened, he still had to _be_ on the station.

_You mean just like me and dad?_

Pidge tried hard not to acknowledge the errant voice eating away at the back of her head. This wasn't like her dad and Matt. It couldn't be. Hunk had been here, they just needed some way to find out where he was... _oh_.

" _The labs_ ," Pidge groaned.

Lance stared at her. "Labs?"

"In the background of his video log! The room he was in, it was one of the labs in 2-B!"

She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it sooner. He'd recorded there just minutes before the stream had cut out. It should've been the first place they checked. Pidge wanted to smack herself for it, but prioritized pulling up the feed instead. Then she realized quickly why they hadn't found anything there at first glance: the room in the picture was almost entirely dark.

"There!" She pointed, but when she turned to Lance, he was gone. " _Ugggghhh_ , Lance...!"

Pidge pushed herself away from the terminal and tried to hurry after him, but she was no match for someone as physically fit and determined as Lance. She was already tired from their first mad dash, and dragging around two oxygen masks hadn't helped. All the adrenaline and worry in the world couldn't make her keep up.

She missed the closing of the first series of airlocks and had to wait for the opposing side on the other end of the hall to lock and close before they'd open, and once she'd run across _that_ , she had to wait for _those_ doors a second time, and _oh_ , she was going to throttle Lance if she ever managed to catch up to him.

Or that was the thought, anyway, until she rushed through the sliding doors and collided heavily with his back, nearly upending them both with a startled grunt.

"Lance, what the _heck_ —" she began to hiss, trying to wrap her head around why he'd make such a mad dash like that, only to stop in the middle of the doorway like some sort of statue.

Until she heard Hunk.

"—Whoooa! What? Lance...?! And Pidge! Ha- _hah!_ You're back!"

The sound of his voice, chipper and bright, was so disarming that Pidge found herself stupefied.

He looked...fine. Excited to see them, if anything. Sure, there was the fact that he was apparently sitting in near-darkness on the floor of one of the labs with a bunch of playing cards in his hands, but all of that was so far off from the worst of her fears that Pidge didn't even know what to make of it. She certainly had no idea what to say.

Hunk filled their silence easily.

"Dude, I can't believe you're back! Oh man, I missed you guys."

Hunk pushed himself up with a slight wince and just like that, light burst forth from the replenisher in front of him in a flurry of movement.

Her eyes rounded at the sight of a slender, _familiar_ pale shape bent nearly in two with long dark hair and a tail that lit up with blue as splayed hands pawed eagerly over the glass—

" _Red?_ " Lance's voice was shrill with disbelief.

Hunk followed their stunned looks with a blink, and then let out a laugh. "Oh, heh. Yup, he's all good as new. We were just playing some cards. Not sure what exactly. We sort of make things up as we go? Keith doesn't really understand any of the rules I've been trying to teach him yet, but he seems to like spades for some reason. I sort of just tape them to the glass and let him point."

Lance stared.

And stared.

And _stared_ , his mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish.

"Uhh...Lance? Buddy? You okay over there?"

Lance very much did not look okay.

"Who's Keith?"

 _Oh, no_.

Pidge sent Hunk a wide-eyed look as he lifted a brow and rubbed the back of his neck.

"The mermaid," he replied slowly. "Or, well, merman? Or something? Actually, It's pretty fascinating—"

Hunk didn't even get a chance to finish.

Pidge watched the way color drained from Lance's face, taking a calculated step back just in time to hear him screech.

" _You renamed my mermaid?!_ "

 

* * *

 

Lance was _not_ sulking.

He wasn't.

Sulking was for chumps, and Lance was no chump. He was a deep-sea explorer, the guy who made first contact with an actual mermaid...who'd rejected the name he'd given it, and completely bonded with someone else the minute he'd left.

It was just shocking how different the mermaid acted around them. Like a magic switch had been flipped, and now Keith was totally fine around them. Hunk tried to explain it as him probably being used to the previous crew.

"Once he woke up and realized that I wasn't gonna hurt him, we started hanging out. Sort of. Do mermen hang out? I dunno. I guess it's just... I think he's okay with us, now."

Wasn't that the understatement of the year. If Lance hadn't known any better, he'd say they were dealing with an entirely different mermaid.

Keith had been skittish and uncertain of them at best before, only really showing himself when he had to. But now? He hovered at nearly every porthole where there was activity, completely content to make his presence known.

And he took a very obvious interest in their day-to-day.

When Lance had asked why Keith kept staring at them while they ate, Hunk had simply shrugged and said,

"He likes teeth."

That was his explanation. Plain and simple.

Also apparently the reason behind the name change. Something about the way sounds were formed against the teeth appealed to him, because...why not.

 _Tap. Tap_.

Lance's eyes snapped to the nearest porthole and found Keith hovering, unsettling white gaze fixed on him as he pushed a clawed hand over the glass and signed.

_Are you okay?_

The gesture was clumsy. Cute, even, but not enough to lift his mood.

Lance grumbled.

"That's a bit of a loaded question right now, buddy." He ran his hands back through his hair, ignoring the way it stuck up all weird. "I'm kinda having a tough time dealing with the fact that apparently anyone can just come along and be your best friend. I mean, I go away for three weeks and suddenly you're all buddy-buddy with _my_ buddy. What am I supposed to think?"

Predictably, Keith said nothing. He just cocked his head slightly with a raised brow and signed the question again, as if Lance hadn't understood.

He groaned, and then slumped further against his chair so his arms hung uselessly.

"I dunno, I just thought...I mean, we bonded. Didn't we? You saving me, me saving you... Did you really hate the name 'Red' that much?"

He sent Keith a sidelong glance and watched as the mermaid wrinkled his nose, brighter purples reflecting off the glass.

"Oh for the love of... No, okay? I'm not okay," he said, holding his hand flat and wiggling it back and forth slowly.

 _Something is wrong_ , he signed, watching as Keith blinked the membrane from his eyes and leaned in. _I have a cramp_. _Here_.

Lance opened and closed his fist, laying it over his heart, and glanced awkwardly to the side as he hugged himself.

_I'm cold._

The translation wouldn't be exact or perfect, especially if mermaids didn't understand metaphors, but...it was less embarrassing to say it that way than to admit anything out loud. And with any luck, Keith would just assume he was cold and crampy.

 _Get with your buddy_ , Keith signed back, brows furrowed as he slid his fingers together. _Hold onto each other?_

It didn't quite flow, but Lance chuckled when he realized this stilted exchange was probably the closest thing they'd ever had to a conversation. They were so limited by what they could express with the diving signals, but Lance found himself grateful. Shiro had probably spent a lot of time teaching Keith how to use them and what they meant.

"I wish that translator was finished," Lance told him with a crooked smile, crossing his arms over the back of the chair and lying his head on top of it. "I've got, like, a million questions for you. Like the last crew, their mission... Why you're all alone out here."

Keith obviously didn't understand what he was saying, but the mermaid paid rapt attention to him all the same, pressing his nose to the glass as his gills fanned out slow and steady with each of his breaths.

He seemed to be considering something, expression thoughtful. Like Lance was some sort of puzzle he was still trying to figure out. Funny, because that was exactly how he felt when it came to Keith. He just didn't get how Hunk made it look so...easy.

"Starting to wish I spoke mermaid," sighed Lance, watching as Keith pushed a flattened palm against the glass and chattered at him.

So yeah.

Not sulking. At all.

He was just...processing. That's all. He'd rushed down there fearing the worst, only to find out that the whole reason for the blackout had been casually crawling its way up and down the interior of the replenisher, not a care in the world.

"Oh, man, I am _so_ sorry about that," Hunk had said when they'd demanded to know why he'd gone dark without any warning. "Keith got ahold of the antenna as it was broadcasting. I think the frequency bothers him? Or he was, uh...hungry. He bit that thing clean in half."

 _That_ had been a fun call to make. "Sorry guys, we know we freaked you all out back there, but it was just some technical difficulties! We'll have a new antenna set up in a jiffy."

_Tap, tap._

Speaking of crises...

Lance stopped rolling his chair back and forth on the floor and lifted his face off its back, sighing woefully. This was just like their first meeting, only instead of screaming, he just dropped his chin back onto his chair.

"So... Your name is Keith now, huh?"

Totally. Not. Sulking.

"Oh, for the love of... How long are you going to hold onto that? Let it go, Lance!"

The illusion of a quiet, intimate moment between them vanished as Pidge walked past him with a scowl, laptop perched precariously in one hand, and took a seat next to Hunk's workstation.

Lance felt his cheeks warm.

"As long as I need to! We had a—a _bonding_ moment, Pidge. We saved each other's lives, but I go away for a couple of weeks and suddenly Hunk is the favorite!"

"Hunk can hear you," Hunk piped up from where he'd appeared in the far doorway, hunched over and focused more intently on a tiny piece of circuitry in his hands than where he was going.

_Tap, tap, tap._

"Well then Hunk can explain why he's a traitor and a mermaid-stealer," Lance groused, causing Pidge to groan loudly and tip her head back as Hunk sat down beside her.

" _Lance_."

"I've been brotrayed."

"Hunk, make him stop."

"Yeah, Hunk, tame me like one of your mermaids."

Hunk sighed and lifted his head, brows pinched together. "Come on, Lance... Don't be like that. Keith likes you! Don't you, buddy? You like Lance."

_Tap. Taptap, tap._

Lance sniffed and sent Keith a glance, but the mermaid wasn't looking at him anymore; he was poking his finger at the glass, fixated on something on the floor.

"Ooh, I think he wants the screensaver again," said Hunk. "Can you set it up for him? Seriously, you'll get instant brownie points for it. Trust me."

Lance shook his head slowly in disbelief.

"My life is a sitcom. That's what it's become."

"You're certainly dramatic enough for it," Pidge said wryly.

He shot her a dirty look as he hoisted himself up and went to grab one of the tablets. There were a couple discarded on the table, so Lance just grabbed the closest—and nearly jumped out of his skin when there came a much louder bout of clicking and whistling from the other side of the glass.

Keith had both hands plastered against it and was lighting up all over with vibrant purples and blues, moving this way and that to try and get a better view through the porthole. The mermaid's eyes were trained on the device as Lance slowly turned and held it up to the window, baffled by how _intense_ he looked.

The moment he tapped to activate the screen, Keith's eyes were glued to the tiny ball of pixels, darting back and forth so comically that Lance actually had to bite back a snort. Keith was concentrating _so hard_. Would he keep following it if Lance physically moved it around? He was sorely tempted to try, a grin slowly forming on his lips as he began to raise the tablet up, only to get distracted as Hunk let out a sound of triumph.

"Aaand that should do it. Hah! Who's an engineering techno-wizard? That's right, it's me."

He was sniffing proudly when Lance looked back, chest puffed up and a tiny strip of black pinched between two fingers.

"What's that, a stick of gum?" Lance drawled.

"Ha ha, funny. No Lance," he beamed, " _this_ is the handy little device that's going to help us understand what our fishy friend over there is saying."

And didn't that just get Lance's attention.

He spun around in surprise, ignoring Keith's annoyed chitter as he gasped, "You finished it? For real?"

Hunk grinned. "Yup. No biggie, just totally designed this baby from scratch with my pal Pidge here. You can tell me how awesome I am."

"What Hunk _means_ to say is that we think we've got a working prototype," Pidge rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the smirk on her face. "We still need to test it, but... It is pretty amazing."

" _More_ tests?" Lance felt the enthusiasm rush out of him like a deflated balloon, arms falling to his sides. "How long is that gonna take? You guys have been working on that thing forever!"

"Relax, we're pretty sure you're going to like this next bit," Pidge said with confidence.

"Moderately sure," Hunk corrected quickly. "See, we still need to calibrate it for the electrical currents inside Keith's body. And to do that..."

"We're going to need you to go out there and attach it to him," Pidge finished, eyes twinkling slyly. "On account of you being the only one who can."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Lance squeaked and felt all the color drain from his face, only to have his heart pick up and beat rapidly.

"Wait, you want me to what?!"

"Don't act like you're surprised. It was always going to be you. What were Hunk and I going to do, suddenly become professionally trained divers?" She shrugged, unbothered by his outburst. "Nuh-uh. This one's all you, Lance."

"It'll be fine!" Hunk jumped in to reassure him. "It's totally non-invasive. It won't even pinch when you attach it. Just stick it on his neck where there aren't gills, and bam! Done."

One look at the displeased glower on Keith's face and Lance did not see that being the case at all, but fifteen minutes later he still found himself suiting up, watching as the fabric split and conformed around his body like a second skin.

The whole time he'd been up on the _Castleship_ , he'd been thinking about the next time he'd get to dive. If they'd make it on time, if he'd even be allowed out in open water. But Pidge had assured him she'd turned on every scanner she'd had and then some; there would be no horrors of the deep sneaking up on them this time.

Still, Lance couldn't quite calm the nervous tremor in his gut as Hunk ran the calibrations on his suit.

"Alright...looks like you're just about ready go to," he confirmed. He held up the small black strip to Lance, indicating one side. "Here's the translator piece. You wanna attach it here, on the shiny bit. Got it?"

"Got it." Lance exhaled and picked up the small piece, turning it over in his hands. "Keith is gonna hate this, isn't he."

"Um... " Hunk looked to the side and pressed two fingers together. "I feel like maybe 'hate' is a strong word?"

"Uh huh..." Well that sure didn't inspire any confidence.

Still, Lance took the piece and made his way into the base's actual diver launch bay, because like heck he was going to load himself up into a cryo-replenisher and launch himself out the bottom. Keith might enjoy zipping in and out like that, but Lance preferred not to feel like he was being compressed into a can of sardines when he pressurized.

He shook out his limbs as water flooded the sealed room and closed his eyes, counting backwards from sixty inside his head. By the time he reached thirty the water was up to his chest; when he hit twelve, he could already feel the need to pop his ears as the force of the water pushed in all around him.

The feeling was, oddly enough, a familiar comfort. When Lance opened his eyes he was smiling, rolling his shoulders and flexing his hands as he waited for the all-clear.

Five minutes...ten minutes...fifteen...

Green light.

Lance grinned at the short ping inside his helmet as Hunk's voice came over the comms.

"Alright, looks like you are good to go. Confirm to open hatch, over."

"Confirming loud and clear! Hatchitize me, capt'n."

The large warning light above the hatch flashed once, twice, thrice; and then slowly slid open, opening to the illuminated waters beyond. Lance pulled himself out, feet kicking slowly behind himself as he cleared the base and took a quick gander of the area.

As usual, it was relatively inactive. There were some lazily-drifting fish moving about near the sand and a number of brittle stars and corals, but no major signs of activity in the form of giant, man-eating leviathans.

"Any visual on Keith?" he asked through the comms. "I'm not seeing him from where I am."

A snicker from Pidge crackled through the radio and Lance wrinkled his nose suspiciously. "What? What's so funny?"

"Try turning around and looking up, Lance," she said.

"Behind me?" Lance spun around quickly to face the base's exterior, but found nothing there, but when he remembered to look up...

Keith was right there, hovering upside-down in the water with both white eyes trained on Lance.

Lance let out a very manly, high-pitched squeak.

"Ohhhhhhh... _Hey_ , buddy, wow. You, uhh...sure did totally sneak up on me like a real creeper, didn't you? Wow," he wheezed, grinning nervously as Keith's gills flared open wide.

Then he started to sink, body curving with the undulation of his tail until he twisted out in the water, winding down around Lance in a slow spiral that was mesmerizing to watch. Lance's eyes were round, glued to the effortless way Keith glided through the water with the most minimal amount of movement possible. He was like a ghost, nothing more a ripple in the water as he circled Lance and slowly, gradually, came to a quiet perch against the sea floor, clawed fingertips nestled comfortably in the sand.

Lance exhaled a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding and felt like all the air had escaped his body at once.

"Oh, _wow_..." he breathed.

That was...that had been...

 _Incredible_.

"The translator, Lance," Pidge rattled in his ear. "You can be weird and gross with Keith later. See if he'll let you put it on."

"Uhhh—right! Right, the translator. The thingy, totally on that," he said quickly, glad there wasn't a visual feed inside his helmet. He could already feel the blood creeping its way up his neck, flushing his skin a dark red as he adjusted himself in the water and carefully dropped down a little way from Keith.

"Hey, buddy... It's me. Lancey Lance. You remember me, guy with the screensaver. Or, well, the other guy with the screensaver. I guess you could even say the better-looking guy with the screensaver? Not to count Hunk out at all though, I mean, that guy is _buff_ , but I like to think I've got more of a classical good-look, you know?"

Keith stared at him flatly, expression one of utter incomprehension.

The heat quickly reached Lance's ears and he coughed loudly to clear his throat.

"W-what I mean is—we sort of built something. For you! To help us understand you. Here."

He pulled out the tiny strip, signing.

 _Look_. " _This_ is going to help _us_ —" _Listen._ "—when we're talking. It goes right here, on your neck."

He mimed attaching the piece near the base of his own neck, and _that_ Keith seemed to take an interest in. He blinked the whites from his eyes for just a second and then moved forward, walking himself along the ocean floor with his hands until he could reach out and grab the arm holding the tiny device.

Lance felt like his heart had stopped. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he clamped his mouth shut and watched the way Keith leaned in, _sniffing_ the water around his fingers with interest. It was surreal. And amazing. And mildly terrifying, but Lance didn't dare move a muscle as the mermaid continued his inspection.

When he flexed his grip, all of Lance's attention went down to the mermaid's hands as they drifted, pawing and scraping their way slowly up his arms towards his neck. He didn't grab so much as he clawed his way along, leaning in so closely that Lance was forced to crane his head back to avoid him.

"Uhhh... Piiidge? Hunk? Please tell me what's happening," he squeaked, heart racing wildly inside his chest. "What is he doing?"

"...Smelling you?" Hunk offered weakly. "I think?"

"You think?!"

" _Shhh!_ Don't yell, you'll scare him off," Pidge chided.

"Well I'm not exactly inside my comfort zone right now, Pidge," he hissed back at her quickly, only to yelp when the clawed tips of the mermaid's hands rapped against his helmet.

"Just attach the translator!"

"Okay, okay—!"

Not wanting to disturb the mermaid and get bitten for his trouble, Lance very carefully reached up to push the tiny strip of soft plastic into the skin above his clavicle—only to be utterly immobilized as Keith yanked him forward.

For just a second, he feared the snap of teeth. But what he found instead was an up-close and personal look at each and every flare of the mermaid's gills as he drew breath. He could see the way the thin slits of flesh opened and closed, the pale pinkish-red of the tissue beneath...and then Keith was pulling back, looking satisfied as he released Lance's helmet and signed:

_Are you okay?_

_Oh_ , Lance thought. _Oh_ , and hastily signed back that he was.

And just like that, Keith eased off.

Finally, Lance had breathing room again, but that did nothing to calm the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he stared at the mermaid and watched the slow ripples of purple that ran the lateral lines of his body.

Keith had been _worried_ about him. He hadn't forgotten about the sea snake, about Lance.

The realization sent a hot wave of relief and something else he couldn't identify flashing through his body, and by now Lance was sure his whole face was beet-red.

"Oh, man.... Keith..." he murmured, not knowing what else to say.

 _Cramp?_ The mermaid asked. He opened and closed his fist over his heart.

Lance shook his head with a watery smile.

"Nah... I'm good."

 

* * *

 

Four days, six hours, and forty-three minutes later, the translator was working perfectly. It recorded, analyzed, and catalogued every single flash, flicker, whistle, and click Keith made with increasing accuracy and speed, building a baseline with startling effectiveness.

It was their first real step forward.

Pidge couldn't even put into words how good it felt to _finally_ make a move on their own terms instead of stumbling along looking for clues. Even if it would be a while before the translator could piece everything together and make sense of it, it was the most solid start they'd had since discovering they weren't alone down there.

Things felt...good. Better than good, even. Almost _hopeful_ , even.

But for her, that wasn't enough.

There was more they needed to know, a heavier burden she needed to bear if she wanted to get a leg up on the secrets she knew Altea was hiding from them.

That burden weighed heavily on her, burning a hole in her coat pocket as she sat in front of the monitors alongside Hunk, watching as Lance, followed very closely by a curious Keith, made his way to the top of the base with a toolset, bundle of wire, and brand-new antenna in hand.

"Alright, first thing you're going to need to do is take off the base of the old one," Hunk said, data pad pulled up in front of him as he watched the feeds intently. "There are four screws mounting it to the hull, so get those out first."

"I've used a screwdriver before, Hunk. I know how to take a thing off a thing," Lance replied dryly, turned towards where he must've assumed there was a camera. Pidge didn't bother to muffle her snort.

"Hey, Captain Fix-it. Other way."

"What?"

Lance's head whipped around and this time it was Hunk's turn to snicker as Lance continued to stare at nothing.

"Come on, that's mean," he said, nudging her with his elbow.

"And very funny."

"I can hear both of you!" said Lance, loudly and unimpressed. "Super funny, guys! Hilarious. I'd like to see you guys come out here and—Keith, no! Plasma cutters are not for chewing!"

"Ohh, I wish we could record this," said Hunk, hand over his mouth to muffle the chuckles threatening to spill out. "Like, you know those funniest home video shows?"

"If only," Pidge smirked wryly.

The sight of Lance wrestling his equipment from Keith's mouth was _,_ admittedly, pretty funny. Almost enough to distract her from the mounting sense of unrest as he shooed the mermaid away and got back to working on unscrewing the base.

Restoring proper communications and data flow to the _Castleship_ was important for a lot of reasons, but Pidge still found herself resentful that they hadn't been able to delay it longer. Knowing that they'd been able to cut Altea off from all but radio contact had been a balm to her mounting suspicions, albeit a short-lived one. Once it was back in order, there was always the risk that something they wanted to keep secret could be broadcasted up.

It was slight, but it was enough to make Pidge fidget where she sat as Lance removed the old antenna and set the new one in its place while Keith rested against the hull, stationary and patient.

 _You need to do it before they restore that data stream,_ the voice in the back of her head prodded. _Altea could find out. This is your chance._

Lance was busy working, and Hunk was preoccupied with making sure the installation went right... It was a chance she might not get again.

Pidge bit her lip.

"Hey, I'll be right back. Forgot something in one of the other labs," she said.

Hunk lifted his head. "Ooh, could you grab me a juice box on your way back? Grape? I'm parched."

"Sure." She flashed a brief smile and took her leave before he could make any further requests, waiting until the airlock closed behind her before she let out a breath and leaned back against it.

 _Sorry, Hunk_ , she thought. _But this is important._

Now on her own, Pidge didn't waste any time in heading to 1-A. As soon as the doors to the lab opened, she headed straight to a shelf at the end of the room. It was filled mostly with dusty equipment and unused boxes, but Pidge pulled one in particular from its place; a plastic geo-sampling kit marked with a piece of masking tape bearing Matt's name.

She traced the furled edges of the tape fondly with her thumb fondly.

"I'm going to figure it all out," she murmured softly. "I promise."

 _I know you will_ , his voice echoed inside her head.

Her expression hardened.

Time to get down to business.

Pidge popped the lid and retrieved a small glass slide from within, gripping it tightly in her hand as she moved over to the micro-scanner mounted at a desk to her left. With practiced ease, she slid it into place beneath the scope and locked it in. A few adjustments, a twist and turn of the dial this way and that, and... _There_.

Pidge let out a breath as the magnified image of two silken, thread-like strands of white came into view under the microscope.

The Growth. Anemone. Polyp.

Whatever they wanted to call it.

Laid out bare and slightly distended before her, Pidge pursed her lips and hastily flicked on the scanner, dragging her fingers over the top of the desk.

She watched the whole surface came to life as the built-in computer booted up. Seconds later, a line of red light worked its way across the slide from below, illuminating the translucent pieces and scanning them into the system. The analyzer would make quick work of them; in just a couple of minutes she'd have a fully-rendered 3D model to look at and tear apart as she pleased.

But until then...

Pidge tapped a few buttons on the desk's glass screen and turned back to the microscope in front of her, pushing her glasses up on top of her head to get a better look.

It seemed so...innocuous. The strands were so fine and so thin it would be easy to dismiss them as nothing. They reminded her of the fine tentacles on jellyfish, harmless-seeming threads that killed and ensnared unwitting prey with merciless efficiency. A couple stings from the right species and even a human could be taken down.

This thing, though... It was different. Perhaps it was because the difference in pressure had turned them to bloated jelly, but Pidge could swear there was something about them. Something that needled at her, drawing her brows together in a hard frown.

She adjusted the magnification to enlarge it until the luminescent strands reflected in her eyes. They were almost entirely see-through up close, not at all like the milky-white color of the main body. If she thought about it, she could still recall the way it had seemed to glow under the _Derceto_ 's lighting, how it had swayed slowly in the still waters; threads cast out like tiny lines just waiting for something to take hook.

It had been beautiful, in a way. Captivating, now that she thought about it.

And wasn't that strange, how she hadn't, really. Not until now. It had been so easy to dismiss it earlier, but the more she traced the fine threads with her eyes, the more she wanted to know; the more she _needed_ to know, needed to see, needed to get _closer_ —

" _Analysis complete_."

Pidge froze.

Blinked.

That couldn't be right, she thought. Her eyes were suddenly sore and her brain felt soft around the edges. Or maybe she'd just now noticed they were?

" _Analysis complete_ ," the computer repeated.

Pidge stumbled to pull herself away from the microscope, one hand groping for the desk; the other rubbed across her eyes quickly, trying to pull all her thoughts back in order. It felt like she'd zoned out or something, or dozed off, but surely that could be the case.

She tapped the screen twice and squinted at the results.

Then stared.

And stared.

Slowly, she lowered her glasses into place.

"This is impossible..." she whispered. There was no way—it _couldn't_ be.

_I told you Altea was hiding something, Pidge._

"But this..."

_It's what they didn't want you to know. What they tried to cover up._

"Oh my god..."

Pidge reached out, grabbed her communicator and slowly brought it to her mouth.

"Guys...we've got a problem."

 

* * *

 

One screw. Two screws. Three, aaaand...four. _Hah_.

Lance swiped an arm across his forehead on reflex before he realized the pointlessness of such a gesture with his helmet on, but recovered quickly and cleared his throat.

"Well? What do you think? Looks pretty good right?"

He turned a sidelong glance to Keith, only to find the mermaid frozen in place, arm outstretched towards the toolbox to his left.

"What the—Keith!" Lance sputtered, causing the mermaid to blink owlishly up as him and snap his hand back. He was just about to reach over and snatch the tools away when Hunk's voice crackled over the comms and interrupted him.

"Hmm...I dunno. I think it looks a little crooked."

Lance spun on the antenna in disbelief, hastily looking it up and down.

"What do you mean, crooked? I screwed it in just where you told me, there's no other way I could put it!"

"Did you use the washers?" asked Hunk.

"Did I use the... Of course I used the washers!" Lance huffed, pointing his screwdriver at the mounted plate attached to the base for emphasis. "Look! One, two, three...fffffuuhh."

"...Four?" Hunk offered.

Lance could practically hear the grin in his voice as he grumbled, jamming the head of the screwdriver into the socket and starting the process anew, this time keeping a diligent eye on the sneaky mermaid beside him as well.

He only had to chase Keith away once before he managed to get everything in place, this time double-checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before switching back on his comms.

" _There_. How's that for you, Mr. Perfectionist?"

"No longer crooked, so. Pretty pleased," Hunk replied, sounding amused. "Aaaand according to these readings, it should be good to go. You can come on back inside now."

"Cool. Lemme just pack up all this junk before Keith uses any more of it as a chew toy," said Lance, giving the mermaid a pointed look.

Keith just clicked in response, nonplussed by Lance's suspicious squinting. He kept his distance as Lance packed everything up and reattached the small kit to his belt, but as he turned to make his way back towards the docking section of the base the mermaid chittered at him, drawing his attention with a blink.

"What? What's up, something wrong?" He signed to Keith to ask as much, but the mermaid only flared out his gills and rumbled again, colorful patterns dancing across his skin. Which...translated into a whole bunch of nothing for Lance, who lifted an eyebrow at him. "Uh...huh. Yep, because that made perfect sense. You know that translator isn't working yet, right?"

 _Thwap_.

Lance was prepared for the lack of an answer. Most of their 'conversations' tended to wind up that way.

What he was not prepared for was the sudden smack of a heavy tail into the side of his helmet, not hard enough to bruise, but enough that he tumbled sideways in the water until he could flail his arms out and correct himself.

"Oh—!" Lance balked, gawking. "What the heck was that for? Keith!"

Keith clicked again and swung his tail lazily through the water behind him in stark contrast to the way he'd thwapped Lance with it a second ago, pushing up off the hull as he butted his way into Lance's space. It was all one single, fluid movement that left Lance staring even as Keith intentionally bumped the side of his torso into Lance's as he brushed past, pulling a faint grunt from his lips.

He spun and watched, baffled, as Keith spared a glance back over his shoulder and let his whole body light up with stronger colors than before, vibrant blues and purples.

"Lance?"

The sound of Hunk's voice snapped him out of his stupor.

"Uh—gimme a sec out here, Hunk. I think Keith's trying to tell me something?"

"Tell you something? Like what? Is it another one of those sea-snake things? I knew going out there was a bad idea!"

"What? No—it's not sea snakes!" said Lance. "It might sound crazy, but I think he wants me to follow him."

That was the best explanation he had for why Keith was staring at him so intently now, clawed fingertips curled against the side of the base, breathing steadily and flashing that same bright burst of blue.

...That, or he was blind from having all that membrane over his eyes. But definitely probably that first one.

"Follow him? Where?"

"Dunno," he replied, kicking his feet and slowly starting after him. "He keeps giving me this look, and I don't think it's because I smacked him with the screwdriver earlier."

Lance wasn't quite sure how to describe it. It was probably thanks to the protective film over his eyes, making them seem larger and more alien, but there was definitely something more determined in the way Keith waited for him to draw close enough, before turning to continue on.

"Lance, I don't think this is a good idea," Hunk said, sounding uncertain. "Pidge still isn't back yet, and..."

"Would you relax?" Lance scoffed. "I'm just following him around the base. I'm not dumb enough to go after him in open water without the ship, come on. Have a little faith, Hunk."

Geez. It wasn't like this was his first dive or anything. He knew how to handle himself, _especially_ after all that had happened with the leviathan. Besides, Keith wasn't even straying that far from the base. He kept close, hovering only a couple of feet off from it as he drifted through the water with no more than a ripple, each of his movements measured and unhurried.

Keith did that a lot. In fact, when he thought about it, Lance hadn't seen the mermaid move fast at all since their encounter with the sea snake. He was always either braced against the side of the base, unmoving, or gliding through the water with as little movement as possible.

At first, he worried it was because Keith was still injured from their encounter. According to the replenisher, though, he was fit as a fiddle. Just...slow. In everything he did.

That guy was _not_ in a hurry.

Even now, with the strain of swimming at such low depths, Lance found it easy to keep up. Keith kept stopping to make sure he was close by before he kept going, leading him in what was starting to seem like one...big circle. They were nearly halfway around the base now.

"Hey! Keith, buddy, pal. I like goofing off as much as the next guy, but if this is all some big game of tag..." he began, only to trail off as the familiar sight of something warped, twisted, and nearly folded in on itself came into view around the bend of the base:

The twizzled remains of a connecting hallway, and beyond that...the collapsed hull of section 4-D.

Lance let his sentence hang there, unfinished, as he watched Keith break off and change course, leaving behind the main body of the building in favor of following the warped tunnel of metal, now no more than a quarter of the size it should've been.

Keith's form bent and flowed around it as if he were made of the water himself, barely batting an eye at the wreck at his side. It didn't seem to matter how violently the metal was twisted, how heavily it was compressed and warped. This was his element, the place he thrived.

A broken human relic was nothing to him.

And realizing that sent a white-hot pang of something through Lance that was just as mesmerizing as it was unnerving when Keith paused along the end of one twisted segment, blues dancing across his skin like a beacon as his torso wound around the steel piece.

Lance didn't think twice about following.

"Lance?" Hunk tried in his ear, worried.

"It's okay, Hunk," Lance replied, eyes glued to Keith's form as the mermaid whistled at him through his gills. "I got this."

What 'this' was, he had no idea, but Lance couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to.

 _Which way?_ He signed. _Where are you leading me?_

It wasn't an exact translation of the diving signs, bit Keith's hands fumbled out an answer for him all the same:

 _Follow me_.

His spine arched over backwards and twisted all in one seamless, perfect movement that left Lance scoffing out a laugh of awe. _What a show-off_. But like a moth to the flame Lance kicked his way through the water, following him to the same opening where he had made his first real contact with Keith. It was funny now, looking back on how terrified he'd been at the time compared to now, pulling himself up alongside Keith at the mouth of the wreckage and looking in.

The lighting from the base didn't quite make it inside, but that didn't bother Keith. If anything, Lance bet he was pleased about that. They hadn't gone with the far-reds since the Incident, too paranoid about being ambushed again.

"Looks...homey," he said, peering into the darkness with little success.

Keith clicked at his side by way of reply, then pulled himself up and in, allowing his tail to brush Lance's side again on the way.

Lance grinned.

"Oh, is that how it is? Two can play at that ga...me?" he began, grabbing hold of the bent metal to hoist himself up after Keith, only to blink when the mermaid was nowhere to be found. The water-filled hull in front of him was empty, not a trace of pale skin or dark tail to be found.

"...Keith?" he tried. "Keeeeith... Buddy? Pal?"

A short trill caught his attention and pulled it upwards, and Lance exhaled at the sight of the mermaid looking down at him from overhead, upside-down and blinking as the protective membrane peeled back from his eyes.

"Geez...don't disappear on me like that," Lance said, carefully gripping the jagged edges of jutting metal to follow him up until they were only a few feet apart. "I can't see in the dark like you can."

 _Stay with your buddy_ , he signed out, index fingers pointed and pushed together.

Keith clicked at him, the sound vibrating through his neck and chest as each of his gills billowed out one-by-one, and Lance found himself staring unabashedly. A month ago, the sight would have terrified him, and admittedly Lance still felt his heart skip a beat, even now, but that tiny flicker of uncertainty was snuffed out the moment a deep, strobing purple slowly came to life across Keith's skin.

Like brush strokes on paper, stretches of light spread their way across the mermaid's body, growing in brightness until the water around them became bathed in the soft color. Pale, nearly-translucent skin flushed with it until Keith himself seemed to glow from within, rendering Lance speechless. It was like watching something supernatural. Ethereal, even. Beautiful and unnerving in equal measure.

When his eyes finally made their way up to Keith's face, he found the mermaid's mouth curved up at the corners, the closest thing he'd seen to a smile from him yet. It was enough to leave him slack-jawed and dumbfounded, floating there like an idiot as Keith's tail flicked and carried him up into the maze of metal above and further into the hull.

"Hey—wait up!"

Keith didn't 'wait up', but he did pause to make sure Lance was still following him as he weaved and bent his way around the shrunken hull, pulling him through the torn shambles of a wall, and into what had likely been one of the labs at one point. But now? It was a shell of its former self, nothing but a warped cave of metal and debris that Keith happily guided him into, swimming to the very end before circling back around to greet Lance with several soft clicks.

Although it wasn't as bad as the outside, grime and muck had begun to settle on whatever surface they could find. More than a few bottom-feeders—sponges, bristle worms and the like—were scattered across the floor and other outlying surfaces. A single fish wriggled sluggishly into hiding when the light of his helmet twisted in its direction.

It was not...the homiest of places, but Keith looked like he was waiting for Lance to say something.

He cleared his throat.

"Soooo... You come here often?"

It was arguably one of his smoothest lines, worked nearly eight times out of ten when he timed it right. Which is what Lance had to remind himself of when Keith only looked at him in confusion, wrinkling his nose and letting a brief flash of purple-blue wash over him.

Which was fine. Keith _obviously_ hadn't been subjected to human charm yet. Lance would be happy to introduce him to it—

"Ugh, _Lance_."

Oh. Right. Hunk was still listening, wasn't he.

Whoops.

"What? Keith's showing me his sweet set-up here! I'm just being polite," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

Keith blinked and circled around him, peering up from around his ankles.

"Every time you open with that it ends with that weird flirting thing you do, man."

Lance balked.

" _Weird_ flirting thing? Excuse you, I flirt totally normal! People like the way I flirt!"

"Please don't do that with Keith, man, that's weird," Hunk groaned.

"That's specist," Lance sniffed, nose in the air. "Fish can find me attractive too. From what I've heard, I'm a real...catch."

Hunk made what sounded like a drawn-out ' _ugh_ ', and it was entirely worth it. The proud and pleased grin on Lance's face felt permanent as he hummed smugly, watching Keith study him with no small measure of intrigue.

It made him long for the translator's completion so he could see what Keith's reaction to being teased would really be like, once he understood what Lance was saying. He wondered if mermaids could blush. What Keith would look like all flustered and embarrassed. What he'd say in response.

"Heh, I bet you'd get so annoyed at me," he said, wriggling his fingers above Keith's face and delighting in the way his eyes tracked the movement keenly. Keith chittered, markings flickering, which was adorable...right up until the point he rose toward them far faster than Lance could react.

A sharp ' _eep!_ ' escaped as he tried to yank his hand back, too late; Keith's maw opened and Lance turned away on reflex, unable to watch. He was prepared for the rough snap of teeth, for the crushing sensation that would surely follow...but what he got instead was the press of something firm and gentle against the underside of his shaking hand.

Lance cracked one eye open, then the other, only to feel heat flush away all of the dread and reluctance he'd felt seconds prior. The rapid thump of nervous energy born of excitement and embarrassment took root in its place.

His heart raced. His face burned.

Because there, in front of him, was Keith, eyes closed and head tucked neatly into the curve of Lance's palm, breathing slow and relaxed as he nosed at the underside of his wrist and rumbled.

Oh.

_Oh._

Oh, no.

That was—that was... Lance didn't even have _words_ for what that was, stunned into silence as Keith gently nudged him, clawed fingertips latching onto his forearm with such care Lance could barely feel them.

He opened his eyes, a deep, dark violet under the soft glow of his skin, and Lance felt his throat go dry. Keith was staring at him, steadfast and intent and earnest in a way that made Lance's skin feel even hotter beneath his suit. Suddenly it was too warm despite the freezing water all around them. The air in his suit felt thin. Lance opened and closed his mouth, but no words would come up.

And as Keith brushed his cheek past Lance's wrist, slowly closing the gap between them, Lance swore his heart would burst out of his chest for the way it hammered inside, choking him. He couldn't meet the mermaid's gaze; his nerves went haywire. He looked to the side, anywhere, eyes darting around the barren room, the sludge-covered remnants of tables and walls warped beyond recognition, the glint of something rounded and reflective and glinting on the floor—

Lance did a doubletake.

"Wait—"

He jerked back from Keith, which surprised the both of them. Keith started and blinked at him rapidly as a bright green-blue flashed across his skin, and Lance flinched back with a sharp gasp.

"I—sorry. Sorry, just..." Lance wriggled back and pointed to the glint that had caught his eye by way of explanation, and when Keith's eyes followed the movement, some sort of recognition flitted across his expression that Lance was not expecting.

With a strobe of soft blue-green, Keith was gliding over to it, digging through the silt for several moments before he returned to Lance with a round object held carefully between both hands:

A disc, smeared with muck, but still impossibly pristine and the size of a dinner plate.

"Wh..." Lance stared, uncomprehending as he slowly reached out to take the proffered item. His fingers skirted over its surface, wiping away the grime as he stared down at what he couldn't possibly have been holding.

But there was no doubt. He'd seen too many of them up-close during the repairs to be mistaken.

A Teludav lens.

"How did you..." he whispered, trailing off as he looked back up, hopeless and searching. Keith tilted his head slowly and reached a hand out to him again, and this time Lance couldn't find the strength to move. He could do nothing as Keith clicked something at him—some insistence, or plea, but Lance couldn't understand any of it. Couldn't understand what it was he was holding or why.

"Guys...we've got a problem."

Pidge's voice.

"Problem? What do you mean problem?" Hunk. "Where are you? You left for drinks, like, half an hour ago."

"I didn't go for drinks—you guys need to get back here to the lab. I tested one of the polyp samples from the ship."

 _That_ got Lance's attention, causing him to spin around on reflex to where he thought the base proper was—he couldn't be sure anymore, after all the twists and turns Keith had led him on to get there.

At first blink all he noticed was the fact that there was no exit. It was just a wall, bent and crushed inward to one side. Below that, the remains of some sort of terminal.

"Wait, sample? How did you get a sample?" Hunk. Alarmed.

But as his eyes traveled down, following the broken remains of shelves and paneling, his eyes landed on something.

Something black and horribly, horribly familiar.

"It doesn't matter! Just—listen to me! I know why they falsified that report. I know why they changed it." Pidge. Insistent.

The shape was slumped to one side, crumpled. Unmistakable.

"That tissue sample didn't belong to any sea creature," said Pidge. "It was _human_."

Two arms. Two legs.

Garrison logo stitched into the top-left breast.

"What?!"

"Guys," Lance interrupted, voice weak and hollow. A body laid before him, garbed in a pressure suit and covered in brittle stars.

"I think I just found one of the Kerberos crew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took forever, but...21.1k, a new record for chapter length in TDD! Double the length of the longest one to date, actually. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this one out. Real life has been incredibly busy, between Christmas Concerts and changing jobs, moving with only two weeks' notice... Suffice to say, it's been hectic. And this will likely continue as I get settled in and figure out what I'm doing and where I'm staying. BUT: we do have a final chapter count now, and I think it'll be increasing chapter length to make sure that I can wrap everything up in the next ten chapters or so. Seems impossible, right?
> 
> Thank you all for your support, comments, kudos, and questions about this fic! You guys make writing this so, so worth it. I can't believe I've been writing this for a whole year... my resolution when I started was to finish a fic for the first time ever, and dangit that's what I'm gonna do!
> 
> If you have asks or want to know more about TDD, you can keep up with me on [my tumblr](http://pterodotyl.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Pterodotyl) where extra stuff and updates for the fic gets posted<3 Want to be in the know about TDD or things in general? Come on by!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mer of the Frozen Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903242) by [Xeriden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeriden/pseuds/Xeriden)




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